A queer little tension in the room roused him.

He felt a sharp constraint.
'Did I do it by accident, or on purpose ?' he asked himself.

And he decided that, according to the vulgar phrase, he had done it 'accidentally on purpose.' He looked round at the hired footman.

And the hired footman came, with a silent step of cold servant-like disapprobation.

Birkin decided that he detested toasts, and footmen, and assemblies, and mankind altogether, in most of its aspects.