‘Both sentiments, let me tell you, are entirely reciprocated,’ said Stephen, grinning.

‘I’m afraid,’ said Joseph sadly, ‘that you haven’t learnt yet, my dear, what it is to care for someone.’

‘Oh gosh, yes, I have. I’ve been simply madly in love often and often. I mean, utterly over at the knees!’ Valerie told him.

‘Young people nowadays,’ pronounced Maud, ‘do not attach so much importance to engagements as they did when I was a girl. It was considered to be very fast to be engaged more than once.’

‘How quaint!’ said Valerie. ‘I expect I shall be engaged dozens of times.’

‘Well, when you get married, I will give you a handsome wedding present,’ said Stephen.

‘Oh, Stephen, you are a lamb! I do hope they don’t go and convict you!’ said Valerie, with a naïve sincerity that robbed her words of offence.

She then settled down to flirt with Roydon, in which agreeable occupation she was uninterrupted until her mother came into the room, radiating brassy good-humour and a somewhat overpowering scent.

It took a strong-minded hostess to prevent Mrs Dean usurping the centre of the stage, and as Maud was not strong-minded, and refused to look upon herself as a hostess, that forceful lady at once assumed the functions of a doyenne. Seating herself in a commanding position, she encouraged conversation, directed people to suitable chairs, and suggested that in spite of the tragic circumstances under which they had all met they ought to try to get up a few quiet games to play after dinner. ‘After all, we must not forget that it is Christmas Day, must we?’ she asked, with a toothy smile. ‘It does no good to sit and brood. Of course, there must not be anything rowdy, but I know some very good paper-games which I know you young people will enjoy.’

This suggestion smote everyone dumb with dismay. Paula was the first to recover the power of speech, and said, with her customary forthrightness: ‘I abominate paper-games!’

‘Lots of people say that to begin with,’ said Mrs Dean, ‘but they always join in in the end.’

‘Mummy’s absolutely marvellous at organising things,’ explained Valerie, quite unnecessarily.

‘No one,’ said Paula, tossing back her hair, ‘has ever yet succeeded in organising me!’

‘If you were one of my girlies,’ said Mrs Dean archly, ‘I should tell you not to be a silly child.’

The expression on Paula’s face was so murderous that Mathilda, feeling that she had borne enough emotional stress during the past twenty-four hours, got up, on a murmured excuse, and left the room. She had barely crossed the hall when she was joined by Stephen.

‘Did your nerve fail you?’ he asked.

‘Badly. She behaves like a professional hostess at a hydro.’

‘Paula will settle her hash,’ he said indifferently.

‘I’ve no doubt she will, but I’m not feeling strong enough to watch the encounter. Let it be understood, Stephen, that if there are to be Quiet Games I shall go to bed with a headache!’