‘Last year,’ said Biffy, ‘I buzzed over to Canada to do a bit of salmon fishing.’ I ordered another. If this was going to be a fish-story, I needed stimulants. ‘On the liner going to New York I met a girl.’ Biffy made a sort of curious gulping noise not unlike a bulldog trying to swallow half a cutlet in a hurry so as to be ready for the other half. ‘Bertie, old man, I can’t describe her. I simply can’t describe her.’ This was all to the good.
