Official functions usually savour of the formal, but there was
something almost of a family circle atmosphere at the Foreign Secretary's farewell dinner to the American Ambassador on Tues- day. That was due mainly to Mr. Bevin himself, who, from his intimation after the Royal toast, " You can now smoke—your own cigarettes " (the guests were not actually reduced to that), to the end of the admirable, simple and intimate speech in which he pro- posed Mr. Winant's health, struck precisely the note required on such an occasion. His reminiscences of war-time companionship—" one night in the black-out the Ambassador and I parted in Grosvenor Square ; he walked into his flat and I walked into a lamp-post "- progressed by an agreeable transition into direct address: " You, John . . . ." There were no unnecessary Misters. To the present Foreign Secretary his predecessor was Anthony Eden ; to Mr. Eden his successor was Ernie Bevin ; after all, they had sat far longer' side by side than they have with the floor of the House between them. It was a very notable occasion, but a morning paper seemed a little imaginationatively perceptive in noting the "dramatic scene" when Mr. Bevin, " in a voice shaken with emotion," proposed one extra toast, to the closer solidarity of the British and American people. My dull ear failed to detect the quaver. Even if it had, I might have ascribed the phenomenon to indigestion.
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