“My dear,” said her husband, “I take my hat right off. What a truly
tidal brain-wave. David, we’ll go and look at chemises to-morrow
morning.”
“No, you won’t,” said Madge. “But we shall—David and I. And you and
Nell will go and get David some boots.”
“But I don’t want any boots,” cried David. “Besides——”
“What d’you mean?” said Crispin. “You can’t be married in your socks.
To-morrow morning Nell and I are going down the Edgware Road to choose
your wedding foot-joy—a good-looking pair of roomy, elastic-sided,
banana-coloured boots; and if we should see a nice pair of trousers
. . .”
The rest of the sentence was lost in a roar of laughter.