Julie leaned back and blew out a thin stream of smoke, her eyes daring him, picking up the little glass as she did so.

"Here’s to the girl with the little grey shoes," she chanted merrily.

“Don’t Julie, for Heaven’s sake!” pleaded Tommy.  “He’ll be shocked.”

“Oh, go on,” said Peter; “what is it?”

“Captain Donovan will finish,” laughed Julie.

“’Deed I can’t, for I don’t know it,” he said.  “Let’s have it, little girl; I’m sure it’s a sporting toast.”

“Who eats your grub and drinks your booze,” continued she.

“Shut up, Julie,” said Tommy, leaning over as if to snatch her glass.

“And then goes home to her mother to snooze,” called Julie breathlessly, leaning back.

“I don’t think,” ejaculated Donovan.

Julie tipped down the drink.  “You knew it all the time,” she said.  And they all burst out laughing.

Peter drank, and called for another, his eyes on Julie.  He knew that he could not sum her up, but he refused to believe that this was the secret behind the eyes.  She was too gay, too insolent.  What Donovan thought he could not say, but he almost hated him for the ease with which he kept pace with their companions.

They ordered dinner, and the great dish of hors d’oeuvres was brought round by a waiter who seemed to preside over it with a fatherly solicitude.  Julie picked up an olive in her fingers, and found it so good that she grumbled at only having taken one.

“Have mine,” said Donovan, shooting one on to her plate.

“Thanks,” she said.  “Oh, heavens!  I forgot that patch on my left cheek—­or was it my right, Solomon?  Let’s see.”

She dived into her pocket, and produced a tiny satin beaded box, “Isn’t it chic?” she demanded, leaning over to show Donovan.  “I got it in the Nouvelles Galleries the other day.”  She took off the lid, which revealed its reverse as a tiny mirror, and scrutinised herself, patting back a stray lock on her forehead.

“Oh, don’t,” said Donovan, and he slipped the hair out again with his finger.

“Be quiet; but I’ll concede that.  This won’t do, though.”  Out came a tiny powder-puff.  “How’s that?” she demanded, smiling up at him.

“Perfect,” he said.  “But it’s not fair to do that here.”

“Wait for the taxi then,” she said.  “Besides, it won’t matter so much then.”

“What won’t matter?” demanded Peter.

“Solomon, dear, you’re as innocent as a new-born babe.  Isn’t he?” she demanded of his friend.

Donovan looked across at him.  “Still waters run deep,” he said.  “I don’t know, but excuse me!”

He had been sitting next Julie and opposite Miss Raynard, but he was now on his feet and begging her to change places with him.  She consented, laughing, and did so, but Julie pretended to be furious.

“I won’t have it.  You’re a perfect beast, Tommy.  Captain Donovan, I’ll never come out with you again.  Solomon, come and sit here, and you, Tommy, go over there.”