privileges," she said. "They wouldn't think of letting us give a garden
party without them."

"Say the word," he said, "and I'll have them put in prison."

But she did not say the word.

The third time up the path he chose to waste on very obvious flattery.

"You're such an unusual woman, you know, Mrs. Blaine. You understand
whatever's said to you, and don't ask idiotic questions. And then, of
course, you're American, and I feel I can say things to you that my
own countrywoman wouldn't understand. As an American, in other
words, you're privileged."

As they turned at the top of the path she felt a cold wet something thrust
into her hand from behind. She had never in her life refused a caress
to a dog that asked for one, and her fingers closed almost unconsciously
on Trotters' muzzle, touching as they did so the square unmistakable
hard edges of an envelope. There was no mistaking the intent; the
dog forced it on her and, the instant her fingers closed on it, slunk out of sight.

"Wasn't that Tripe's infernal dog again?"

"Was it? I didn't see." She was wiping slobber on to her skirt from an
envelope whose strong perfume had excited the dog's salivary glands.
But it was true that she did not see.

"May I call you Theresa?"