C and I are making drawings of a piece of Elgar's music. My old french teacher Mr H pours us copious glasses of champagne and we feel deliriously happy.
Our ink is running out and Mr H is reluctant to give us any of his. He has an idea - he will search for a later part of the music which will not require so much ink- I think he must mean that it has more minims and quavers rather than crotchets.
I secretly think that as he will be buying our drawings anyway he should give us his ink so we can get on with it.