It engenders choler, planteth anger.
“Oh?” she said. “So you have decided to revise my guest list for me? You have the nerve, the – the –” I saw she needed helping out. “Audacity,” I said, throwing her the line. “The audacity to dictate to me who I shall have in my house.” It should have been “whom”, but I let it go. “You have the –” “Crust.” “– the immortal rind,” she amended, and I had to admit it was stronger, “to tell me whom” – she got it right that time – “I may entertain at Brinkley Court and who” – wrong again – “I may not.”
We sighed happily into our espressi (75¢), pleased to be among the first diners in this accomplished yet simple bistro.
Picture a group of tired (owling starts about an hour before dawn and the last birds counted are gleaned from the merest traces of daylight), red-faced and pink-handed (worse when the count day is gray, snowy and the temperature is below freezing), be-booted and de-downed, (piles of hats, coats and gloves cover the beds in the makeshift cloakroom) men, women and children bunched together in a living room waiting to contribute their numbers to the total.
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★★★★★★★★★★
