The negro made some remark that Peter couldn't catch, and the place shook with laughter.
At half-time everyone flocked into a queer kind of semi-underground hall whose walls were painted to represent a cave, dingy cork festoons and "rocks" adding to the illusion.

Here, at long tables, everyone drank innocuous French beer, that was really quite cool and good.

It was rather like part of an English bank holiday.

Everybody spoke to everybody else, and there were no classes and distinctions.

You could only get one glass of beer, for the simple reason that there were too many drinking and too few supplying the drinks for more in the time.
"I must go," said Pennell, "but don't you bother to come." "Oh yes, I will," said Peter, and they got up together.
In the entrance-hall, however, a girl was apparently waiting for someone, and as they passed Peter recognised her.