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times, thereby trebling any sounds that ventured into it, each stair acting like a tiny fin in the cylindrical sound-box of the vibes. Colin went up,with his head close on the heels of the pair of girls. Pretty reinforced heels of flesh-coloured nylon, high-heeled shoes of fine leather, and slender delicate ankles. Then the seams of the stockings, imperceptibly meandering, like fabulously long slinky caterpillars leading to the articulated concave curves between suspender and knee. Colin stopped to let them get two steps ahead, then he set off again. From his new position he could see the tops of their stockings, the extra thickness there, and the shadowy whiteness of the thighs of the one on the left. The other girl’s skirt, tightly pleated, did not allow him such advantageous views, but under her beaver-lamb coat her hips swivelled with greater symmetry than those of the first girl, making another little rival pleat … Out of decency Colin began to look down at his feet, and watched them as they arrived at the second floor.
    He was right behind the pair of girls just as they were being let in.
    â€˜Hallo, Colin!’ said Isis. ‘How are you?’ He drew her towards him and kissed her between her hair and her cheek. Her perfume was tantalizing.
    â€˜But it isn’t
my
birthday!’ she protested. ‘It’s Wry-Tangle’s! …’
    â€˜Where is Wry-Tangle? I want to congratulate him! …’
    â€˜Isn’t it disgusting,’ said Isis. ‘This morning we took him to the trimmer’s to have his coat clipped and make him handsome. They gave him a bath and the whole treatment … And then at two o’clock three of his friends came round with four bundles of horrible old bones and off he went with them. He’s bound to come back in a terrible state! …’
    â€˜It is
his
birthday, after all,’ frowned Colin.
    Through the opening between the double doors hecould see the other boys and girls. A dozen of them were dancing, but most of the others were standing close to each other, with their hands behind their backs, in pairs of the same sex, exchanging extremely unconvincing impressions with even more unconvincing expressions.
    â€˜Take off your coat,’ said Isis. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you the way to the boys’ cloakroom.’
    He followed her, squeezing past another pair of girls who were emerging, in the opposite direction, along with the compacted sounds of snapping bags and puffing powder, from Isis’s bedroom which had been transformed into a girls’ cloakroom for the occasion. Iron hooks and rails, borrowed from the butcher’s, hung from the ceiling, and as decorations Isis had also borrowed a couple of closely skinned sheep’s heads to grin at the end of each row.
    The boys’ cloakroom, which had been set up in Isis’s father’s study, consisted solely of the suppression of all the furniture in the said room. One simply unwrapped one’s carcass on the floor – and that was that. Colin gave a brilliant performance, but lingered for a second in front of a mirror.
    â€˜Come on! Hurry up!’ said Isis impatiently. ‘I want to take you to meet some really charming girls.’
    He held both her wrists and drew her towards him.
    â€˜Your dress is a dream,’ he said.
    It was a simple little dress of almond-green cashmere, with great gilded ceramic buttons, and the low back was filled in with a wrought-iron portcullis.
    â€˜Do you like it?’ said Isis.
    â€˜It’s a dream of a dream,’ said Colin. ‘Can you put your hand through the bars without being bitten?’
    â€˜Better not try,’ said Isis.
    She broke loose, seized Colin’s hand and dragged him to the centre of maximum perspiration. They elbowed their way past a sharp member of the sexy sex and a sexy member of the sharp sex who had just arrived, slipped round a corner of the corridor and reached