He succeeded only to the extent of noticing that there were about nine people in the room besides Mr. Blearney. Most of them were standing together in the middle, holding glasses in their hands. Their appearance, in general, gave the impression of what is usually known as Bohemianism, but without its redeeming features; they looked studiedly theatrical instead of harmlessly eccentric, and gave no impression, en masse, of intelligence or sensitivity. Charles’s mind flew back to Froulish and Betty, but there was the world of difference between these people and the couple in the loft; they were harder, more brutal, less absorbed in pursuits outside themselves. The group seemed to be domi­nated, in the temporary absence of Mr. Blearney, by a thick-set, middle-aged man in a loud check suit, who had the biggest face Charles had ever seen. Its total area was big, and all its features were big. Huge eyebrows arched over protruding eyes. His mouth seemed immense even when, as now, he happened to have it closed for the moment. His nose was both long and fantastically bulbous, with nostrils like volcanic craters, from which black hairs peered. Hairs of about the same length covered the backs of his hands. Standing beside him was a young man in grey suède shoes; Charles caught sight of those shoes and decided that he now knew all he wished to know about one guest at least. He avoided glancing in his direction again.

Bernard Roderick was standing in the fireplace leaning his shoulders against the chimney-piece. Veronica Roderick was sitting by herself on a Windsor chair, a little apart from the others.

‘Ha, Partner!’ cried Mr. Blearney, turning round and seeing Charles. ‘Just in time! Now we can really begin the fun—the party’s complete! Folks, this is Harry Lumpy, a young motor engineer from the Midlands. This is Jimmy, Stanley, Elsa, Judy,’ the succession of names flooded over his mind like dirty water.