It was a regular pandemonium.

They ordered the best champagne out of the cellars and drank it, the men cleared all the cigar-boxes, and the women rummaged in the wardrobes until they seemed like a pack of hungry wolves.

Everybody went away with their trunks full of the Leithcourt's things.

They took whatever they could lay their hands on, and we, the servants, couldn't stop them.

I did remonstrate with one lady who was cramming into her trunk two of Miss Muriel's best evening dresses, but she told me to mind my own business and leave the room.