“A civilized evening; the kind of thing to hold on to in these slipping, barbaric times when men went out to dinner in the suits they had worn all day, and people talked of war. The dinner had been perfect, although there had, of course, been too much salt in the soup. But this incorrigible kink of Alexander’s gave him a certain cachet, a handmade individuality, like a flaw in a priceless piece of glass. The salt in Alexander’s soups had come to be almost a spécialité de la maison. As Rodney cou...ld not cure it, he exploited it, and forestalled criticism by calling attention to it as a deliberate thirst-promoter for the good wine that was to follow. Yes, a pleasant evening. It had been worth producing the 1865 brandy for Kenneth. He had drunk it in silence. Dorrie, as usual, had talked fast and wittily enough for both of them. Charming people. And Sheena, with her mother-of-pearl hair and voice as soft as the draping of her mysterious purple-grape dress … Sheena. He might have dallied with her once.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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