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Rory and Arnold chuckled; Dick shook convulsively, and a little sheepishly. After all, he was much older than the others; besides, he was afraid that his plate might slip down. He was very fond of his plate, and much enjoyed clicking it into place, like the right piece in a jig-saw puzzle; nevertheless, he would die of humiliation if it slipped down before Arnold.

Story followed story; with each one, the laughter growing louder and more satyr-like (even David was smiling gravely); and it was on the best of terms that the five entered the billiard-room, where, if there were men, it was the custom at Plasencia to assemble after dinner.

Arnold immediately organised a game of Snooker between Dick, Concha, Rory, Guy, and himself; and the Doña, who was not completely free from a social conscience, invited David to come and sit beside her on the sofa.

What on earth was she going to talk to him about? It had been difficult enough at dinner. Ah, of course! There was always the War; though there were few subjects that bored her more.