What think you of this?
'You're a great idiot,' I said to Wolfgang at breakfast when he suggested I should take the waters to recover my spirits. 'There is no spa that will cure me of this.'
'And what pray, is THIS?' he asked, 'which makes you growl and snap as if I have drunk all the milk on the table?'
‘Brother dear, I beg that you will do SOMETHING more than common - more than extraordinary for me.' I carefully picked up the last crumbs from my plate with my fourth and fifth fingers before continuing. 'I would thank you NEVER to make hint of my monthly cloth again - or to say that I am ever disadvantaged by it.'
'My most beloved blister - I never have - except in your opinion.'
'Exactly. In MY opinion!'
At which point, I left the table in tears and Wolfie gave the rest of the milk to Miss Pimperl in a fine china bowl on the floor underneath the clavier. N.