Marigold signalled to the porter and they hoisted down my chair.

Betty, who had lingered during the operation, walked by my side.

Being able now to propel myself, I dismissed Marigold to a discreet position in the rear.

Betty, her face still slightly flushed, said: "I'm waiting for congratulations which seem to be about as overwhelming as snow in August.

Don't you think I've been extraordinarily good ?" "Do you feel good ?" "More than good," she laughed.