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Here comes Mamma Vauquerr, fair as a starrr; and strung up like a bunch of carrots. Aren’t we suffocating ourselves a wee bit?’ he asked, placing a hand on the top of her corset. ‘A bit of a crush in the vestibule, here, Mamma! If we start crying, there’ll be an explosion. Never mind, I’ll be there to collect the bits–just like an antiquary.”Now, there’s the language of true French gallantry,’ murmured Madame Vauquer in an aside to Madame Couture.
