There is plenty to admire about a feasting table piled with fresh food, plenty to enjoy about sparkling glasses plied with vintage wine. Crane lifts his tumbler and savours the fresh taste of water with slices of lemon. He adjusts the flower pinned to his lapel, straightens the pin affixed to his tie, hoists his collar and dusts his lapels. He looks uncomfortable in formal dress, but truthfully he is less distressed by the clothes than the crowd.

He remains seated, happy to drink without a bite to eat, all so he can watch people come and go. Silence drags on and on until somebody claims the seat to his right.

It takes a short while to speak.

"Lovely night, isn't it?"