‘I want to say,’ she began in a loud, shaky voice, ‘that I’m very sorry, Aunt Pauline and Mummy, that because of Paul and me you’ve been treated so disgracefully. We don’t mind for ourselves. We’d neither of us, after the things he’s said, touch a penny of his money. But we are sorry about you and Panty.’

‘Well, darling,’ said her mother, putting an arm through hers, ‘That’s very handsome of you and Paul, but don’t let’s have any more speeches, shall we?’

‘Yes, but Mummy—’

‘Your two families are very anxious for both of you to be happy. It’s like that, isn’t it, Pauline?’

‘Well, Jenetta, that, of course, goes without saying, but—’

‘There you are, Fen,’ said Jenetta. ‘It goes, and without saying, which is such a blessing.’

Pauline, looking extremely vexed, retired into a corner with Desdemona.

Jenetta offered Troy a cigarette. ‘I suppose,’ she muttered in a friendly manner, ‘that was not a very good remark for me to make, but, to tell you the truth, I take a pretty gloomy view of all these naked wounds. Mr Rattisbon tells me your husband’s coming back. What fun for you.’

‘Yes,’ said Troy, ‘it’s all of that.’

‘Does everything else seem vague and two-dimensional? It would to me.’

‘It does with me, too. I find it very muddling.’

‘Of course the Ancreds are on the two-dimensional side anyway, if it comes to that. Especially my father-in-law. Did it make painting him easier or more difficult?’

Before Troy could answer this entertaining question, Cedric, flushed and smirking, opened the door, and stood against it in a romantic attitude waving his handkerchief.

‘Darlings,’ he said, ‘Allez-houp! The great moment. I am to bid you to the little theatre. Dearest Mrs Alleyn, you and the Old Person should be jointly feted. A cloud of little doves with gilded wings should be lowered by an ingenious device from the flies, and, with pretty gestures, crown you with laurels. Uncle Thomas could have arranged it. I should so adore to see Panty as an aerial coryphée. Will you all come?’

They found the men assembled in the little theatre. It was brilliantly lit, and had an air of hopefully waiting for a much larger audience. Soft music rumbled synthetically behind the front curtain, which (an inevitable detail) was emblazoned with the arms of Ancred. Troy found herself suddenly projected into a star role. Sir Henry led her up the aisle to a seat beside himself. The rest of the party settled behind them. Cedric, with a kind of consequential flutter, hurried backstage.

Sir Henry was smoking a cigar. When he inclined gallantly towards Troy she perceived that he had taken brandy. This circumstance was accompanied by a formidable internal rumbling.

‘I shall,’ he murmured gustily, ‘just say a few words.’