I reached for the telephone and picked up the receiver.

"Number, please."

"Exchange," I said, "there is here a fat swab."

"What?"

"Swab," said I. "I'll spell it. S for soldier, W, A for apple,
B for Baldwin."

"Have you a complaint to make?"

"That's it," said I:

"About this swab. You see, he won't go to the ball. His ticket
has been bought, his role chosen, his face passed over. And yet-
"

"Mayfair supervisor," said a voice.

"That's done it," said I.

"I mean- er- Supervisor."

"Speaking."

"I want to complain about our swab here."