“Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his attention. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. “I don’t see why not,” he answered.
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