It's _much_ worse than a camisole, you know...." Peter was horribly conscious that the men were smiling at her.

"Julie," he said desperately, "_do_ be sensible, just for a minute.

We must get those menu-cards." "Well, you go and find the books," she said merrily.

"I told you you ought not to watch me buy these.

I'll take the best care of myself," and she looked past him towards the men.
Peter gave it up.