A house bewitched, carved out of the dark woods.
And when the last rocket burst and the cheering died away, the night that had been fine before seemed dull and heavy in contrast, the sky became a pall.
The little groups on the lawns and in the drive broke up and scattered.
The guests crowded the long windows in the terrace back to the drawing-room again.
It was anticlimax, the aftermath had come.
We stood about with blank faces.
Someone gave me a glass of champagne.
I heard the sound of cars starting up in the drive.
"They're beginning to go,' I thought.
"Thank God, they're beginning to go.'
The salmon lady was having some more supper.
It would take time yet to clear the hall.
I saw Frank make a signal to the band.
I stood in the doorway between the drawing-room and the hall beside a man I did not know.
'What a wonderful party it's been,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'I've enjoyed every minute of it,' he said.
'I'm so glad,' I said.
'Molly was wild with fury at missing it,' he said.
'Was she?' I said.
The band began to play Auld Lang Syne.
The man seized my hand and started swinging it up and down.
'Here,' he said, 'come on, some of you.'
Somebody else swung my other hand, and more people joined us.
We stood in a great circle singing at the top of our voices.
The man who had enjoyed his evening and said Molly would be wild at missing it was dressed as a Chinese mandarin, and his false nails got caught up in his sleeve as we swung our hands up and down.
He roared with laughter.
We all laughed.
'Should auld acquaintance be forgot,' we sang.
The hilarious gaiety changed swiftly at the closing bars, and the drummer rattled his sticks in the inevitable prelude to God Save the King.
The smiles left our faces as though wiped clean by a sponge.
The Mandarin sprang to attention, his hands stiff to his sides.
I remember wondering vaguely if he was in the Army.
How queer he looked with his long poker face, and his drooping Mandarin moustache.
I caught the salmon lady's eye.
God Save the King had taken her unawares, she was still holding a plate heaped with chicken in aspic.
She held it stiffly out in front of her like a church collection.
All animation had gone from her face.
As the last note of God Save the King died away she relaxed again, and attacked her chicken in a sort of frenzy, chattering over her shoulder to her partner.
Somebody came and wrung me by the hand.
'Don't forget, you're dining with us on the fourteenth of next month.'
'Oh, are we?' I stared at him blankly.
'Yes, we've got your sister-in-law to promise too.'
'Oh. Oh, what fun.'
'Eight-thirty, and black tie.
So looking forward to seeing you.'
'Yes. Yes, rather.'
People began to form up in queues to say goodbye.
Maxim was at the other side of the room.
I put on my smile again, which had worn thin after Auld Lang Syne.