Folly Du Jour
“He arrived panting and took a moment outside the door of George’s room to ease and check the Browning revolver in his pocket and to put his ear to the woodwork.
‘Liar!’ George’s voice boomed. ‘You’re not getting away with that! Lying cheat!’ he added.
Joe burst in, revolver in hand.
‘Oh, I say! Great heavens! Don’t shoot! I was just about to come clean anyway!’ Heather Watkins put her hands in the air and shook with laughter. The playing cards she was holding began to slide from her... hands and flutter on to the counterpane between herself and Sir George.
George was sitting up in bed, rubicund with rage or good humour or bruising, it was hard to tell. He was crisply dressed in nightshirt and dressing gown. ‘Ah! Commander!’ he said. ‘There you are. What an entrance, my dear fellow! As you’re positively bristling with authority, you may as well arrest this young lady.MoreLess
‘Liar!’ George’s voice boomed. ‘You’re not getting away with that! Lying cheat!’ he added.
Joe burst in, revolver in hand.
‘Oh, I say! Great heavens! Don’t shoot! I was just about to come clean anyway!’ Heather Watkins put her hands in the air and shook with laughter. The playing cards she was holding began to slide from her... hands and flutter on to the counterpane between herself and Sir George.
George was sitting up in bed, rubicund with rage or good humour or bruising, it was hard to tell. He was crisply dressed in nightshirt and dressing gown. ‘Ah! Commander!’ he said. ‘There you are. What an entrance, my dear fellow! As you’re positively bristling with authority, you may as well arrest this young lady.MoreLess
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