When we emerged into the blaze and glitter of the supper-room I
sought refuge in the shadow of Mrs. Bliss's companion, for it
seemed to me that I had lost my own.

"Drink this Champagne," said Mr. Uxbridge. "Pay no attention to
the Colonel on your left; he won't expect it."

"Neither must you."

"Drink."

The Champagne did not prevent me from reflecting on the fact that
he had not yet asked whether I loved him.

The spirit chorus again floated through my mind:

"Where lovers,
Deep in thought,
*Give* themselves for life."

I was not allowed to *give* myself--I was *taken*.

"No heel-taps," he whispered, "to the bottom quaff."

"Take me home, will you?"

"Mrs. Bliss is not ready."

"Tell her that I must go."