“Well, old bird,” said Donovan, “first we meet here.  Got that?  It’s safer than any other camp, and we don’t want to meet in town.  We’ll have tea and a chat and then clear off.  We’ll order dinner in a private room at the Grand, and it’ll be a dinner fit for the occasion.  They’ve got some priceless sherry there, and some old white port.  Cognac fine champagne for the liqueur, and what date do you think?—­1835 as I’m alive.  I saw some the other day, and spoke about it.  That gave me the idea of the dinner really, and I put it to the old horse that that brandy was worthy of a dinner to introduce it.  He tumbled at once.  Veuve Cliquot as the main wine.  What about it?”

Peter balanced himself on the back of his chair and blew out cigarette-smoke.

“What time are you ordering the ambulances?” he demanded.

“The beds, you mean,” cried Julie, entirely forgetting her last words.  “That’s what I say. I shall never be able to walk to a taxi even.”

“I’ll carry you,” said Donovan.

“You won’t be able, not after such a night; besides, I don’t believe you could, anyhow.  You’re getting flabby from lack of exercise.”

“Am I?” cried Donovan.  “Let’s see, anyway.”

He darted at her, slipped an arm under her skirts and another under her arms, and lifted her bodily from the chair.

“Jack,” she shrieked, “put me down!  Oh, you beast!  Tommy, help, help!  Peter, make him put me down and I’ll forgive you all you’ve said.”

Tommy Raynard sprang up, laughing, and ran after Donovan, who could not escape her.  She threw an arm round his neck and bent his head backwards.  “I shall drop her,” he shouted.  Peter leaped forward, and Julie landed in his arms.

For a second she lay still, and Peter stared down at her.  With her quick intuition she read something new in his eyes, and instantly looked away, scrambling out and standing there flushed and breathing hard, her hands at her hair.  “You perfect brute!” she said to Donovan, laughing.  “I’ll pay you out, see if I don’t.  All my hair’s coming down.”

“Capital!” said Donovan.  “I’ve never seen it down, and I’d love to.  Here, let me help.”

He darted at her; she dodged behind Peter; he adroitly put out a foot, and Donovan collapsed into the big chair.

Julie clapped her hands and rushed at him, seizing a cushion, and the two struggled there till Tommy Raynard pulled Julie forcibly away.

“Julie,” she said, “this is a positive bear-garden.  You must behave.”

“And I,” said Pennell, who had not moved, “would like to know a little more about the dinner.”  He spoke so dryly that they all laughed, and order was restored.  Donovan, however, refused to get out of the big chair, and Julie deliberately sat on his knee, smiling provocatively at him.

Peter felt savage and bitter.  Like a man, he was easily deceived, and he had been taken by surprise at a bad moment.  But he did his best to hide it, and merely threw any remnants of caution he had left at all to the winds.