30 JULY 1948, Page 5

At a gait too dignified to be called a scurry,

yet definitely more precipitate than a glide, a large section of Their Majesties' guests at last week's Garden Party began with one accord to make their way to a corner of the lawns from whence came the sound of polite, almost diffident clapping. This curiously un-English tribute—for though we often cheer people just for being themselves, we surely hardly ever clap them, out of doors, when they are neither playing a game nor making a speech—was being paid to Mr. Winston Churchill as he left after having tea with his hosts. I thought it was a rather touching mark of affection ; and it was odd to reflect that there have been times in our history when it might have cost him his head.

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