‘Good,’ said the two black-robed figures.

‘Quite better. Funny, wasn’t it?’

‘Very,’ they agreed.

‘Not sick any more. Shorry, darling,’ and she got up and fled down the corridor back to the sitting room.

‘And don’t call me darling, damn you,’ said Sophia softly, laughing. ‘That must be the quickest cure on record. Nothing like Eno and cold water.’

Unfortunately Sally’s attack of sickness, like other ailments, had its after-effects. Soon after her return to the sitting room the party broke up, for it was now after one o’clock and Edward had to drive back to Taplow, and he and Emily were working so hard just now in the Hensatt revue that they did not want to have too many late parties. Sally, still murmuring at intervals that she knew Harry’s sister did not like her, was put at the back of Edward’s car and told by him to shut up, which at last she did, and went to sleep.

It was a rather flat end to the party, which had not been a good one. Sophia stood at the door sh-sh-ing everyone and still more subduing their already subdued spirits, because every sound they made could be heard all over the crowded hollow of the Vale; and Capel, who was escorting Celia home across the Heath, was gloomy and silent because she had twice danced with Harry and talked for fifteen minutes with George, while the others were sleepy and thinking about how to get themselves home.

Sophia was profoundly depressed; two of a set of green drinking glasses had been broken, the cottage was scattered with cigarette ash and broken meats, and when she got home tomorrow evening Miss Tessitt, who stayed late on Friday to receive her wages, would say, ‘Ay see you hed another little party last night. May! You are gay! There was quate a lot of washin’ up, and did you know two of them teen glasses is broken. How did that happen, Ay says to mayself? Ay haven’t done much to the place today. There was such a lot of crocks; Ay was quaite worn out when Ay had finished them all. There is a lot to do ’ere for such a small place, is there not?’

When everyone had gone, and the footsteps and voices and the sound of Edward’s car had died in the mild and beautiful stillness of the night, she turned back into the cottage.

Francis could be heard in the bathroom, vigorously cleaning his teeth. Harry was sitting on the sofa, leaning forward with his head bent and his hands clasped between his knees. All the light and gaiety had gone out of his face. He looked tired, sulky, lost in sad thoughts. He did not look up as his sister came in.

His stillness and the sulky, resentful look on his face annoyed her. She said:

‘You seem very fed up.’

‘I am.’

‘Why? I thought you were enjoying it.’

‘Well, I wasn’t. It was a bloody party. I was ashamed for Edward and Emily to meet awful people like that friend of Celia’s. God, he was wet. And the food was awful, too. I was nearly sick. No wonder it made Sally ill, poor darling.’