The long line of lights came out suddenly, crossing each other like a string of many-coloured gems.
Outside the Tube station they paused as though the same thought had struck both of them.
"It is like the washing of the week before last," Mary said, as the indescribable odour floated out to them.
"Why not take a 'bus ?" said he.

"The air grows more delicious." "Why not, indeed ?" she answered.

"Except that I shall be so late getting home.

And it will keep you late for your dinner." "So it will," he said.

"To say nothing of your dinner.