Seems to me you've got thinner and more serious-looking." "I am afraid my own memory is also at fault," Philip remarked, a little stiffly.
"I am Violet Fox," the young woman who had accosted him continued.

"This my friend, Hilda Mason.

She's a dear girl but a little shy, aren't you, Hilda ?" "That's just because I told her that we ought to wait until you remembered us," the slighter young woman, with the very obvious peroxidised hair, protested.
"Didn't seem to be any use waiting for that," her friend retorted briskly.

"Hilda and I are dying for a cocktail, Mr.Romilly." He led them with an unwillingness of which they seemed frankly unaware, towards the lounge.

They drank two cocktails and found themselves unfortunately devoid of cigarettes, a misfortune which it became his privilege to remedy.