夜雨聆风said Edmund to Phillipa upon the day oftheir return to Chipping Cleghorn after the honeymoon. “Let’s go along toTotman’s.”
Mr. Totman, a heavy-breathing, slow-moving man, received them withaffability.
“Glad to see you back, sir. And madam.”
“We want to order some papers.”
“Certainly sir. And your mother is keeping well, I hope? Quite settleddown at Bournemouth?”
“She loves it,” said Edmund, who had not the faintest idea whether thiswas so or not, but like most sons, preferred to believe that all was wellwith those loved, but frequently irritating beings, parents.
“Yes, sir. Very agreeable place. Went there for my holiday last year. Mrs.
Totman enjoyed it very much.”
“I’m glad. About papers, we’d like—”
“And I hear you have a play on in London, sir. Very amusing, so they tellme.”
“Yes, it’s doing very well.”
“Called Elephants Do Forget, so I hear. You’ll excuse me, sir, asking you,but I always thought that they didn’t—forget, I mean.”
“Yes—yes, exactly—I’ve begun to think it was a mistake calling it that. Somany people have said just what you say.”
