Grrr ... went the gramophone—the spell was snapt.
“Bravo!” cried the audience, clapping; while ’Snice began to bark, and the children to jump up and down and squeal.
“You dance divinely!” cried Concha, flushed and laughing.
David blushed, frowned, muttered something inaudible, and left the room.
They exchanged looks of surprise.
“Hot stuff!” said Rory; and they settled down to desultory, frivolous, Anglo-Saxon chatter—not unlike fox-trots, thought Teresa.
She shut her eyes, half mesmerised by the din of all the voices talking together.
The talk, like a flight of birds, squeezed itself out into a long thin line, compressed itself into a compact phalanx, was now diagonal, now round, now square, now all three at once, according to the relative position of the talkers.
“Don’t you love Owen Nares? I love his English so—I love the way he says, ‘I’m so jolly glad to meet you.’” “I knew Middlesex would be first—it was only poetic justice to Plum Warner.” “I don’t care a damn what the Nation or what the New Statesman says—I happen to know....” “Of course, with Jimmy Wilde it’s all grit and science—he ought to do him in every time.” “Is it true that Leslie Henson wears spectacles off the stage?” “How much do you think I gave for it? Thirty bob. A jeweller I showed it to in town said it was the very finest Baltic amber—you see, I got it out there.” “I know! My cousin, Guy’s brother, when he was going out to Tin-Sin thought it would be nice to brighten up China, so he took out an assortment of the merriest socks you ever saw in your life, and when he was killed my aunt handed them over to me, and I had ’em dyed black....” “Very nayce, too!” “What are you saying about socks? I wish to God some one would mend mine!” “Well, I got a bit of amber in an old shop in Norwich....” “He’s a priceless little man ... he came out and amused us at the front.”
“Tea time!” said Arnold, looking at his watch and yawning.