‘Hul-lo, darling!’ said Harry very affectionately. ‘All right, are you, darling? Where’s the old Deedle? Is he all right?’ The Deedle was a pet name for Francis.

Sophia perceived immediately, with some dismay, that Harry had been out to lunch with someone. Nobody who had a strict sense of justice could have said that he was tight, but neither could they have said that he was sober. He was rosy, smiley, loquacious and amiable, and the fact that he had twice called Sophia ‘darling’ in his first sentence only confirmed her fears. In fact, he was in that pleasant state which may be described as the better for liquor.

‘He’s all right. He’s upstairs with everybody else. And Mr Marriot’s here, too; they’re only waiting for you. I think you’d better go up.’

‘All there, are they? All right. Right you are. I say, I’m frightfully late, aren’t I? I’ve been having lunch with old Edward,’ and he began to follow his sister up the stairs. ‘Marvellous lunch.’

‘And how is Edward?’

‘He’s marvellous … Going to be in Hensatt’s new show. So is Emily. God, she’s marvellous. I bought her some red carnations.’

‘Good,’ said Sophia, opening the sitting room door with her mind in a whirl of pleasure in Harry’s arrival, dismay at his condition, and a dryly malicious anticipation of what the relatives would say.

Harry stopped on the threshold, and made a gay ceremonious little gesture of greeting, mocking yet friendly.

Dearly beloved aunts and uncles, I’m a bit tiddley, said the little gesture.

It was a kind of parody of the Fascist salute, much favoured by the young in England and America during that year. In its transportation from Italy and Germany it had lost severity, shape, and a hint of austere terror lying in wait behind it, and had been gently worked upon by American gaiety and English casualness until it was a ghost, a mere faint echo, of its Continental original.

It was nevertheless exotic enough to affront the assembled elders, with the exception of Aunt Maxine, who was so pleased to see her handsome nephew that she was in the mood to forgive anything. She soon gathered that he was a little merry, and became more full of admiration than ever.

Francis came forward and took his brother’s arm. At the first glimpse of Harry’s charming face, he knew. He muttered ‘Steady, man,’ grimly out of the side of his mouth and Harry immediately assumed an expression of tender anxiety, willingness to serve, and funereal solemnity. The change was too abrupt to be convincing, and did not improve the situation.

‘Well, Harry, you’re very late. Very late indeed. We expected you about half past two, didn’t we, Looie? Didn’t you say something about being here for lunch? ’

‘Sorry, Uncle Preston. The train was late. Fog on the line.’

‘Well, well, it can’t be helped. Now, Mr Marriot, don’t you think perhaps we had better begin? It is nearly a quarter to four. Yes, now that Harry is here I see no point in waiting further, do you, Maxine? Yes, of course. Now I suggest that we all sit down. Harry, are you cold? Sophia! You look quite blue, my dear; you had better come to the fire, near me.’