This we did in an excellent (if rather sweet) glass of Cliquot '93.

King Rupert (nominated) then asked us to resume our seats.

He walked between the tables, now and again recognizing some journalistic friend whom he had met early in life in his days of adventure.

The men spoken to seemed vastly pleased--with themselves probably.

Pretty bad form of them, I call it! For myself, I was glad I had not previously met him in the same casual way, as it saved me from what I should have felt a humiliation--the being patronized in that public way by a prospective King who had not (in a Court sense) been born.