I can soon mend it, Mother.' On Sunday evening Bruce's high spirits seemed to flag; he had one of his sudden reactions.

He looked at everything on its dark side.
'What on earth's that thing in your hair, Edith ?' 'It's a bandeau.' 'I don't like it.

Your hair looks very nice without it.

What on _earth_ did you get it for ?' 'For about six-and-eleven, I think.' 'Don't be trivial, Edith.

We shall be late.