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Going down that alleyway with that rather shady-looking man - I'm sure it was him, because he was fussing with his cuffs and muttering about watered silk and opal studs. Shouldn't we ask him if he's seen Tristan?
Oh, really, Sidney, you do keep a girl galloping. But oh, the streets are so slush-covered and I haven't had time to get the proper boots - whoops! Whee! Oh, Sidney, that was jolly - Tristan's always been too short to sweep me into his arms like that and carry me along. But he is so clever in other ways - though there have been times when I long for poetry that rhymes, like dear old Mr. Housman's, Henry used to read it aloud in the evenings, people dying up and down the length and breadth of Shropshire, but the cherry blossoms are nice.
Now what, Sidney? Oh, this is where Lenin keeps his offices? Well, let's bang on the front door, shall we, and be announced. The back way? Do you mean the tradesmen's entrance? But that's so unfriendly of us, Sidney, especially if you think Tristan's here - he and Mr. Lenin are probably having a drink in the study, if I know Tristan, and discussing the role of anti-art in the revolution. He had a ripping idea about using a giant plaster turnip to repesent the people's struggle for freedom.
I say, Sidney, that's a nice gun - what sort is it? I still have Henry's Webley with me - see? Jolly handy when a girl's going out unaccompanied, I must say. Oh, don't be so jumpy, I wasn't really pointing it at you. I'll be glad to cover you, Sidney, if that's what you'd like.
Yes, of course both Tristan and Henry know about the gun. Well, for the most part they do. Let's not dawdle about, Sidney - we have to find Tristan and get back before all the shops close up.
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