"There's plenty here" said Mrs. Orly helping him. Miriam laboured with her jelly and glanced at the dish. People wolfed their food. It would seem so conspicuous to begin again when the fuss had died down; with Mr. Orly watching as if feeding were a contemptible self-indulgence. "Had a beastly gold case half the morning" rapped Mr. Leyton and drank, with a gulp. "Get any help?" said Mr. Orly glancing at Miriam. "No" said Mr. Leyton in a non-committal tone, reaching across the table for the cheese. "Hancock too busy?" asked Mr. Orly. "Have some more jelly, Miss Hens'n." "No thank you" said Miriam. "A bit of cheese; a fragment of giddy Gorgonzola." "No thanks." Mrs. Orly brushed busily at her bodice, peering down with indrawn chin. The room was close with gas. If Mr. Hancock would only come down and give her the excuse of attending to his room. "What you doing s'aafnoon?" asked Mr. Leyton. "I, my boy, I don't know," said Mr. Orly with a heavy sigh, "string myself up, I think." "You'd much better string yourself round the Outer Circle and take Lennard's advice." "Good advice my boy--if we all took good advice ... eh Miss Hens'n? I've taken twenty grains of phenacetin this morning." "Well, you go and get a good walk," said Mr. Leyton clattering to his feet. "S'cuse me, Mater." "Right my boy! Excellent! A Daniel come to judgment! All right Ley--get on with you. Buck up and see Buck. Oh-h-h my blooming head. Excuse my language Miss Hens'n. Ah! Here's the great man. Good morning Hancock. How are you? D'they know you're down?" Mr. Hancock murmured his greetings and sat down opposite Miriam with a grave preoccupied air. "Busy?" asked Mr. Orly turning to face his partner. "Yes--fairly" said Mr. Hancock pleasantly. "Wonderful man.... Ley's gone off like a bee in a gale. D'they know Hancock's down Nelly?" Miriam glanced at Mr. Hancock wishing he could lunch in peace. He was tired. Did he too feel oppressed with the gas and the pale madder store cupboards? ... glaring muddy hot pink? "I've got a blasted head on ... excuse my language. Twenty of 'em, twenty to dinner." "Oh yes?" said Mr. Hancock shifting in his chair and glancing about. "_Nelly!_ D'they know he's down? Start on a paté, Hancock. The remains of the banquet." "Oh ... well, thanks." "You never get heads do ye?" Mr. Hancock smiled and began a murmuring response as he busied himself with his paté. "Poor Ro he's got a most awful head.... How's your uncle Mr. Hancock?" "Oh--thank you.... I'm afraid he's not very flourishing." "He's better than he used to be, isn't he?" "Well--yes, I think perhaps on the whole he is." "You ought to have been there, Hancock. Cleave came. He was in no end of form. Told us some fine ones. Have a biscuit and butter Miss Hens'n." Miriam refused and excused herself. On her way upstairs she strolled into Mr. Leyton's room. He greeted her with a smile--polishing instruments busily. "Mr. Hancock busy?" he asked briskly. "M'm."