sofa where she had been sitting, but immediately her legs gave out and she fell back to her original position, which Hal suddenly realized looked more like ‘placement’ than ‘independently-achieved seating’.  “Mercy!” she cried out, though through a childlike smile of resignation, and all the while her eyes were trained upon their trusty valet.

“My dear Miss Phoebe!” Christopher himself cried out, loud enough to make Hal jump.  “Let me help you up!”  The portly little valet dropped the Yank’s luggage and ran over to the silly old woman, but she simply put up her hands in a dismissive manner.

“Oh, don’t bother helping me up to help you with dinner,” she relented (rather vigorously).  “I’ll just wait ri...

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