"We are enemies.

I hate you," said that glance.
Probably Barbara saw it; at any rate before either of them could speak again, she said: "Thank goodness, there is dinner at last.

Sir Robert, will you take me in, and, Alan, will you sit on the other side of me?
My uncle will show the rest their places." The meal was long and magnificent; the price of each dish of it would have kept a poor family for a month, and on the cost of the exquisite wines they might have lived for a year or two.

Also the last were well patronized by everyone except Barbara, who drank water, and Alan, who since his severe fever took nothing but weak whiskey and soda and a little claret.

Even Aylward, a temperate person, absorbed a good deal of champagne.