Peter quickly caught his knife-wrist with one hand and his throat with the other, and demanded an apology.

He got it.

The Lisbon _boulevardiers_ have not lost any lions.
After that there was a bit of a squash in our corner.

Those near to us were very quiet and polite, but the outer fringe made remarks.

When Peter said that if Portugal, which he admitted he loved, was going to stick to England she was backing the wrong horse, there was a murmur of disapproval.