It's a borrowed plume, plucked from an American quill pen." Hart gave "plume" a French sound, and Robinson was puzzled to know why Grant bade his friend stop profaning a peaceful Sunday afternoon.
"You'll have a glass of beer now ?" went on the host.
"I don't mind if I do, sir, though it's tea-time, and I make it a rule on Sundays to have tea with the missis.

A policeman's hours are broken up, and his wife hardly ever knows when to have a meal ready." Minnie was summoned.

It took her a couple of minutes to draw the beer from a cool cellar.

So it chanced that when Doris led Mr.Siddle to the edge of the cliff about twenty-five minutes past four, the first thing they saw was the local police-constable on the lawn of The Hollies putting down a gill of "best Sussex" at a draught.
"Well!" cried the chemist icily, "I wonder what Superintendent Fowler would say to that if he knew it ?" "What is there particularly wrong about Robinson drinking a glass of beer ?" demanded Doris, more alive to the insinuation in Siddle's words than was quite permissible under the role imposed on her by Winter.
She waved her hand to the party on the lawn.

Grant, whose eyes ever roved in that direction, had seen her white muslin dress the moment she appeared.
"Who the deuce is that with Miss Martin ?" he said, returning her signal.
"Siddle, the chemist," announced Robinson, not too well pleased himself at being "spotted" so openly.