Sir Oswald played bridge, like he did everything else, extremely well, and liked a partner to correspond. Bateman was as efficient a bridge player as he was a secretary. Both of them confined themselves strictly to the matter in hand, merely uttering in curt short barks, “Two no trumps,” “Double,” “Three spades.” Lady Coote and Gerald Wade were amiable and discursive, and the young man never failed to say at the conclusion of each hand, “I say, partner, you played that simply splendidly,” in tones of simple admiration which Lady Coote found both novel and extremely soothing. They also held very good cards.

The others were supposed to be dancing to the wireless in the big ballroom. In reality they were grouped around the door of Gerald Wade’s bedroom, and the air was full of subdued giggles and the loud ticking of clocks.

“Under the bed in a row,” suggested Jimmy in answer to Bill’s question.

“And what shall we set them at? What time, I mean? All together so that there’s one glorious what not, or at intervals?”