Digging in
Champagne flowed and so did le Scotch. I learned that in politer French circles where weddings are treated with serious formality (defunct titles and grandfather's first war Croix _ de Guerre on the invitation), almost any ghastly habit will pass as a charming Scottish custom. The heraldry experts had been hard at work. One great uncle came round with a book he had had made up containing the family trees of both sides (names like Trevelyan and Goodenough very elegantly pronounced) pictures of big houses and the occasional poem read out with relish and, more amazingly, with comprehension. Great uncle thought this one particularly suited to the occasion: My arm is nothing weak. My strength is not gone by.
• I have borne many sons but my dugs are not yet dry.
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