"You'd really come visit? Oh, that would be brilliant!" Bertie practically beamed. "I'd have to take you to the Drones. You'd just be the thing with some of those fruity songs you've got. And you must meet my tailor. I could have him do up a new suit for you. He's very good. Dinner at Simpson's-in-the-Strand, of course..." The prospect of this visit was leaving him giddy, and it probably wasn't even going to happen.

"But what's this about 1939?" He cocked his head, curious. "Does something happen?"