‘Even with the madness of love running in his veins? To shine in front of her?’

‘Your wickedness knows no bounds. In her eyes that would not make him shine.’

‘In any woman’s eyes it would. Why else do you think men do these things? That’s so, isn’t it, Charles? Men do deeds of valour to win the hearts of women, isn’t that so? What other reason could there be?’

‘None, my dear Aline, none,’ said Charles Farquhar cheerfully.

‘A deed of valour,’ said Sir Randolph, determined that Aline should not see how much she had disturbed him, since that had presumably been her intention (had he not always thought her too thin? Emaciation in women was a sign of a malicious nature, he had always said so). ‘A deed of valour for any man is to partner my dear wife at bridge. I did it once thirty years ago and I’ve never touched a card since. But I can see by the look in her eye that someone’s going to have to do it. The bridge fever is upon her. We have one other expert I know. Now, who else?’

Sir Reuben Hergesheimer was an excellent bridge player. Both he and Minnie often played for very high stakes; there was no one else in the party who was in their class.

‘Perhaps just a rubber or two would be rather nice,’ said Minnie, quite as if she had not played bridge for an hour or two between tea and dinner most evenings for the past thirty-five years. (She had even sometimes played after dinner too though generally speaking that was when the gambling became serious and so was left to the men after the ladies had gone to bed.) ‘Aline?’ she questioned. ‘Charles?’

They rose obediently. There was general movement. Rogers and a parlourmaid appeared, to take away the tea.

‘We’ll go to the library and play Old Maid,’ said Cicely.

‘Anything but word games,’ said Tommy.

But as Rogers opened the door there was a diversion. He opened it with his usual silent and deferential air and stood behind it holding the handle so that it should not swing back upon Mary the parlourmaid as she carried out the silver tray; he was therefore unaware of the impression he gave of participating in a rather grand entrance. The effect for those who did see it was comic.

‘Oh, do look,’ said Cicely quietly.

Everyone looked and heard the gentle flap of webbed feet. It seemed that Rogers was holding open the door for a duck.

‘Oh dear,’ said Ida, who recognized the bird.

Rogers, seeing Mary hesitate with her loaded tray, came out from behind the door to see what was happening. Mary stood aside, blushing with embarrassment. The duck, hardly hesitating, continued its progress between them. It was a wild duck, a young female mallard in the peak of condition.

‘Ah,’ said Sir Randolph. ‘Rogers, I think we have need of Master Osbert.’

‘How too divine,’ said Aline.