(Untitled)

[the_pimpernel]

*Marguerite Blakeney has just entered, accompanied by her husband, and looking divinely pretty beneath the wealth of her golden, reddish curls, slightly besprinkled with powder, and tied back at the nape of her graceful neck with a gigantic black bow. Always dressed in the very latest vagary of fashion, Marguerite alone among the ladies that night

Comments

[pubdog]

*pours a glass of brandy and one of very fine claret, amused*

Welcome to Milliways. Get you something to eat with that? *slides the glasses across the bar*

[the_pimpernel]

Sink me! This a deuced fine spot you have, my good man! Well, if you would be so kind, a baron of beef, light on the gravy.

[pubdog]

A baron of...right, just a moment. *ducks into the kitchen; distant voice can be heard* Oi, Gil, what the hell's a Baron of Beef?

*Emerging*

That'll just be a minute or two, sir.

[the_pimpernel]

Any time, sir, we're in no rush. Zounds, it's an uncommon damp night out there. One would think it was the dead of winter.

Margot, I don't this we will be able to go yachting tomorrow, if this weather keeps up we'll be indoors for a week. Lud, I'll miss my cricket match!