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"
We
could
go
upstairs
,
if
you
want
.
I
’
m
supposed
to
be
with
Harry
,
but
he
’
ll
never
notice
.
He
’
s
too
busy
teasing
poor
Roger
.
"
The
number
ended
.
There
was
a
spatter
of
applause
and
then
the
band
swung
into
"
Mood
Indigo
"
with
scarcely
a
pause
.
Jack
looked
over
her
bare
shoulder
and
saw
Derwent
standing
by
the
refreshment
table
.
The
girl
in
the
sarong
was
with
him
.
There
were
bottles
of
champagne
in
ice
buckets
ranged
along
the
white
lawn
covering
the
table
,
and
Derwent
held
a
foaming
bottle
in
his
hand
.
A
knot
of
people
had
gathered
,
laughing
.
In
front
of
Derwent
and
the
girl
in
the
sarong
,
Roger
capered
grotesquely
on
all
fours
,
his
tail
dragging
limply
behind
him
.
He
was
barking
.
"
Speak
,
boy
,
speak
!
"
Harry
Derwent
cried
.
"
Rowf
!
Rowf
!
"
Roger
responded
.
Everyone
clapped
;
a
few
of
the
men
whistled
.
"
Now
sit
up
.
Sit
up
,
doggy
!
"
Roger
clambered
up
on
his
haunches
.
The
muzzle
of
his
mask
was
frozen
in
its
eternal
snarl
.
Inside
the
eyeholes
,
Roger
’
s
eyes
rolled
with
frantic
,
sweaty
hilarity
.
He
held
his
arms
out
,
dangling
the
paws
.
"
Rowf
!
Rowf
!
"
Derwent
upended
the
bottle
of
champagne
and
it
fell
in
a
foamy
Niagara
onto
the
upturned
mask
.
Roger
made
frantic
slurping
sounds
,
and
everyone
applauded
again
.
Some
of
the
women
screamed
with
laughter
.
"
Isn
’
t
Harry
a
card
?
"
his
partner
asked
him
,
pressing
close
again
.
"
Everyone
says
so
.
He
’
s
AC
/
DC
,
you
know
.
Poor
Roger
’
s
only
DC
.
He
spent
a
weekend
with
Harry
in
Cuba
once
…
oh
,
months
ago
.
Now
he
follows
Harry
everywhere
,
wagging
his
little
tail
behind
him
.
"
