“Where is Mr. Threepwood?” she asked.
“Upstairs. I have put him in storage for a while. Do not worry about Comrade Threepwood. He has lots to think about. He is under the impression that if he stirs out he will be instantly shot.”
“Oh? Well, I want to put this lamp down. Will you please pick up that table?”
“By all means. But—I am a novice in these matters—ought I not first to say ‘Hands up!’ or something?”
“Will you please pick up that table?”
“A friend of mine—one Cootes—you must meet him some time—generally remarks ‘Hey!’ in a sharp, arresting voice on these occasions. Personally I consider the expression too abrupt. Still, he has had great experience...”
“Will you please pick up that table?”
“Most certainly. I take it, then, that you would prefer to dispense with the usual forma
