Soberly the Governor General inspected Cawston's rapidly balding scalp. 'Better take your wife's advice, old chap. Not much time left, I'd say.' His tone robbed the words of any offence and there was a chorus of laughter in which the Finance Minister joined.

Now, as the viceregal group moved on, James Howden dropped back. He caught the eye of Arthur Lexington, the External Affairs Minister, several groups away with his wife Susan, and nodded imperceptibly. Casually Lexington excused himself and strolled over- a short cherubic figure in his late fifties whose easy-going, avuncular ways concealed one of the sharpest minds in international politics.

'Good evening. Prime Minister,' Arthur Lexington said. Without changing his expression he lowered his voice. 'Everything's teed.'

'You've talked with Angry?' Howden asked crisply. His Excellency Phillip B. Angrove, 'Angry' to his friends, was the US Ambassador to Canada.

Lexington nodded. He said softly, 'Your meeting with the President is set for January second. Washington, of course. That gives us ten days.'

'We'll need all of it.'

'I know.'

'Have you discussed procedure?'

'Not in detail. There'll be a state banquet for you the first day – all the usual folderol – then the private meeting, just four of us, the following day. I suppose that's when we get down to business.'

'How about an announcement?'

Lexington nodded warningly, and the Prime Minister followed his eyes. A manservant was approaching with a tray of drinks. Among them was a single glass of grape juice, the latter a beverage which James Howden – a teetotaller – was believed to favour. Noncommittally he accepted the drink.

As the manservant left, Lexington sipping rye and water, Aaron Gold, Postmaster General and only Jewish member of the Cabinet, joined them. 'My feet are killing me,' he announced. 'Couldn't you drop a word to His Ex, Prime Minister – ask him for God's sake sit down, so the rest of us can get the weight off.'