She turned her face away from him, striving to control her irresistible laughter. In vain; it took her as a sudden gale takes a pennant at the masthead—seized and shook her—as von Herrnung could have shaken her had they been alone. He turned savagely from her; she heard him speak to Brayham, who responded with what-whattings, his fleshy hand to his deafest ear. Von Herrnung repeated his utterance. Brayham goggled in astonishment. Courtley murmured to Franky: "Hear what the blighter’s saying.... No keeping him down, is there? ... Buoyant as one of his own Zeppelins!" They looked and listened. Brayham’s thick bull-neck was shortening as his shoulders climbed to his mottled ears. They caught a sound between a snort and a bellow. Then Lady Wathe’s diamonds flashed all the colours of the rainbow as she turned vivaciously to her friend.... Count Tido wanted to propose a toast, the custom in dear, sentimental Germany.... Why shouldn’t he? Rather amusing. She begged him to go on. Said von Herrnung: "To-night the laugh goes much against me. I have been most frightfully rotted. Now, in my country it is the custom when a guest has been made game of that those who have laughed at him must drink a toast with him—to show there is no ill-will." "Never heard of such a custom—and I’ve lived in Germany a good deal." This from Brayham. The German persisted: "Still, it is a custom, and it may be you will gratify me?" He went on, now addressing the company generally: "Here at the Spitz they have a Tokayer that is very old and very excellent. If I might order some? It would be amusing if you would all join me in drinking to The Day! ..." The speaker, without waiting consent, beckoned to one of the attendants. Brayham, his cockatoo-crest of stiff grey hair erect, stared, as at a new and surprising type of the human kind. But the words Brayham might have uttered were taken out of his mouth. A swift glance had passed between the English Naval officer and the rather stupid, titled young Guardsman occupying the seat left of von Herrnung. And while the Commander coolly intimated to the advancing waiter by a sign that his services were not needed, Lord Norwater, lobster-red and rather flurried, turned to von Herrnung and said, not loudly, yet clearly enough to be heard by every guest at the table: "Stop! Sorry to swipe in, Count, but you’d better not order that wine, I think!" "You think not?" asked von Herrnung, with coolest insolence. "I—don’t think so. I’m dead-sure!" said Franky, getting redder. "We Britons laugh at brag and bluffing, and the gassy patriotism shown by some foreigners we’re apt to call bad form. We abuse our Institutions and rag our Governments—we’ve done that since the year One—far as I can make out. And when other people do it we generally sit tight and smile. We’ve no use for heroics. But when the pinch comes—it ain’t so much that we’re loyal. We’re Loyalty. We’re IT!"