"I thought you were looking for the wedding ring," said Henley.
"Right after a lil' sip to sober up we mus' look for pearls again. Two of 'em rolled into the hall."
They followed Cham into the library, a great wainscoted room dense with the sweetness of the yellow mimosa that stood in pots in the fireplace. A group of girls and young men stood round a brass smoking table on which was a shaker and a great array of cocktail glasses shining in the grey light that poured in through a broad window. In a morrischair sat a fatfaced girl, her eyes brimmed with tears holding a lot of various sized pearls in her cupped hands.
"Count them again, Susie.... Maybe you've got them all," somebody said.
"Have a lil' cocktail with us and then we'll all look an we won't stop looking till we find every last one of 'em."
"But it's time, Cham," whined the girl in the morrischair.
"Well, where's Allie? I'm ready.... Here's looking at you, Fanshaw."
"Brush off your knees, they're all over dust.... I hear the orchestra tuning up. Come along, everybody."
"For God's sake, don't anybody get me started laughing," said Cham straightening himself up and goosestepping stiffly towards the door.
"Come on, Cham, they are waiting," said in a voice staccato with excitement a little grey-haired grey faced man in a frock coat too long for him who appeared in the door.