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them at a perilous angle. But the butler was steady enough. He stood stiff as a ramrod, taking their wraps, her red satin coat.
"Now the party can start!" shouted Jack, hurrying to greet them, bowing over their hands. Everyone turned, smiled, waved hello. They were in the limelight, vivacious, enjoying the stir they made.
Jack tried to fold her in his arms, he wanted to dance.
"You'll spill that champagne," she laughed, holding him off, straightening the glass he held awkwardly. "Besides, we're starved." He wasn't there. She'd searched all the faces.
Very well, if she wanted to eat, they'd eat, Jack said, lurching a little as he pulled her arm through his.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the butler, sounding a soft silver bong, "dinner is . . ."
The drummer stirred them into action, and Jack roared, "Come and get it."
People swayed toward the dining room, where a long table was draped in lace, banked with red roses, glittering with crystal, silver and gold-embossed china. Jack led her to the head of the table and pulled out her chair. Champagne slopped from his glass and two waiters fell at his feet with white cloths.
"I shouldn't sit at the head of the table. Your wife "
"Is out on Long Island where she belongs," he said. " 'P-l-a-y a simple m-e-1-o-d-y,' " he roared, waving his glass to the orchestra which promptly swung into tune. " 'Play me some rag, just change that classical nag to some sweet beautiful drag.'"
People sang with him. The girls screamed with delight as they tore open the gifts at each plate. Hers was a golden compact with MAE spelled out in rubies.
"I want you in my arms," Jack muttered drunkenly.
"Jack, sit down, they're serving." Waiters had uncovered silver trays, the table was enveloped in the scent of pheasant and wild rice. Sparkling burgundy was poured. She tried a sip. The bubbles danced, pricked her tongue.
"Have something to eat, Jack; it's good for you."
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