Julie agreed, and they spun a coin solemnly.

“It’s mine,” cried Elsie, and pounced for it.

Julie snatched it away, “No, you don’t,” she said.  “A man must put it in, or there’s no luck in it.  Here you are, Trevor.”

Pennell took it, laughing, and pushed back his chair.  The others stood up and craned over to see.  Elsie drew up her skirt and Trevor pushed it down her stocking amid screams of laughter, and the rattle of chaff.

“No higher or I faint,” said Tommy.

Trevor stood up, a little flushed.  “Here,” said Peter, filling his glass with what was left in the bottle, “drink this, Pen.  You sure want it.”

“It’s your turn next,” said Trevor, “and, by Jove, the bottle’s empty!  Encore le vin,” he called.

“Good idea.  It’s Julie’s next cork, and Graham’s the man to do it.” said Jack Donovan.  “And then it’ll be your turn, Tommy.”

“And yours,” she said, glancing at him.

“Bet you won’t dare,” said Elsie.

“Who won’t?” retorted Julie.

“Peter, of course.”

“My dear, you don’t know Peter.  Here you are, Peter; let’s show them.”

She tossed the cork to him and stood up coolly, put up her foot on the edge of the table, and lifted her skirt.  Peter pushed the cork into its traditional place amid cheers, but he hardly heard.  His fingers had touched her skin, and he had seen the look in her eyes.  No wine could have intoxicated him so.  He raised his glass.  “Toasts!” he shouted.

They took him up and everyone rose to their feet.

“’Here’s to all those that I love;
Here’s to all those that love me;
Here’s to all those that love them that love those
That love those that love them that love me!’”

he chanted.

“Julie’s turn,” cried Elsie.

“No,” she said; “they know all my toasts.”

“Not all,” said Donovan; “there was one you never finished—­something about Blighty.”

“Rhymes with nighty,” put in Tommy coolly; “don’t you remember, Julie?”

It seemed to Peter that he and Julie stood there looking at each other for seconds, but probably no one but Tommy noticed.  “Take it as read,” cried Peter boisterously, and emptied his glass.  His example was infectious, and they all followed suit, but Donovan remarked across the table to him: 

“You spoiled a humorous situation, old dear.”

Dinner over, they pushed the table against the wall, and pulled chairs round the fire.  Dessert, crackers, chocolates and cigarettes were piled on a small table, and the famous liqueur came in with the coffee.  They filled the little glasses.  “This is a great occasion,” said Donovan; “let’s celebrate it properly.  Julie, give us a dance first.”

She sprang up at once.  “Right-o,” she said.  “Clear the table.”

They pushed everything to one side, and Peter held out his hand.  Just touching his fingers, she leaped up, and next minute circled there in a whirl of skirts.  A piano stood in a corner of the room, and Elsie ran to it.  Looking over her shoulder, she caught the pace, and the notes rang out merrily.