agree, Rupert,’ said Hermione.

‘All right,’ said Birkin.

‘I’m all for the old national hat,’ laughed Gerald.

‘And a fool you look in it,’ cried Diana, his pert sister who was just in her teens.

‘Oh, we’re quite out of our depths with these old hats,’ cried Laura Crich. ‘Dry up now, Gerald. We’re going to drink toasts. Let us drink toasts. Toasts — glasses, glasses — now then, toasts! Speech! Speech!’

Birkin, thinking about race or national death, watched his glass being filled with champagne. The bubbles broke at the rim, the man withdrew, and feeling a sudden thirst at the sight of the