The reception was all that I had hoped. When we arrived we were shown into some kind of anteroom, where we were detained, with the rest of the actors; apparently we were not yet allowed to mingle with the other guests, though what we were waiting for was far from clear. Pointlessly we eyed each other; David was getting annoyed, as he always does when drink is withheld, and would not introduce me to anyone. Nor would he speak to anyone, so he and I stood together crossly, waiting for something to happen. There seemed to be no point in discussing Flora’s linguistics, or the gas water heater, which would never ignite, so we said nothing. I stared hard at people to stop them staring at me; this is one of my amusements. After about five minutes we were suddenly all ushered through into the main hall, where the town dignitaries were already drinking their sherry. I gathered that Wyndham Farrar and the Mayor were shortly to say a few words, so I hastily ditched David and tried to find myself a drink. I did not have much success until I located the kitchen door and stood by it till the next full tray issued forth, whereupon I immediately helped myself. Then I prepared to have a look round. As I had expected, all the actors were still gathered together in a tight huddle, and nobody was making any effort to perform introductions. It was like the school dances I used once to attend, at which all the boys stood along one wall and all the girls along the other. But here the division was social, not sexual.

A few of the better-known figures, such as Natalie Winter, were eventually urged to cross the gap by obsequious attention. She was wearing a cocktail dress in emerald green, a colour better left to emeralds, with a black satin evening bag and white satin shoes. She did not sort at all ill with the town ladies, some of whom were attired in a very similar way; she was talking to a middle-aged couple, with an air of some embarrassment. David, also, I soon noticed, had attracted the attention of a group of women, who were chattering round him; he looked quite at home. He had, of course, a better-known face than many of the better-known actors in the company; there were many people who had heard of Natalie Winter but never seen her, but many more who had seen David Evans though never heard of him. It was to make himself heard of that he had joined the company at all. He wished, for some reason, to be a classical actor, did David.