'Where are you going, Gordon?'
'To recapture that first fine careless rapture,' said Gordon, on the pavement.
'What?'
'It's time we laid in some more booze. The pubs'll be shutting in half an hour.'
'No, Gordon, no! You're not to get anything more to drink. You've had quite enough already.'
'Wait!'
He came out of the shop nursing a litre bottle of Chianti. The grocer had taken the cork out for him and put it in loosely again. The others had grasped now that he was drunk—that he must have been drinking before he met them. It made them both embarrassed. They went into the Cafe Imperial, but the chief thought in both their minds was to get Gordon away and to bed as quickly as possible. Rosemary whispered behind Gordon's back, 'PLEASE don't let him drink any more!' Ravelston nodded
