Jane smiled apologetically.
"You will never bring me out again," she declared.

"I want some champagne." "I never felt more like it myself," he agreed.

"The _Pommery_, George, slightly iced, an aperitif now, and the dinner can take its course.

We will linger over the _hors d'oeuvres_ and we are in no hurry." George departed and Tallente smiled across at his companion.

It was a wonderful moment, this.