“My dear, I’m terribly late. I am sorry. I’ve had the most awful morning shopping with Lady R.”

She sits down at the table.

“You haven’t got to rush back to your school, have you? Because I’m never going to see you again. The most awful thing has happened—you order lunch, Adam. I’m very hungry. I want to eat a steak tartare and I don’t want to drink anything.”

Adam orders lunch.

“LADY R. SAYS I’M SEEING TOO MUCH OF YOU. ISN’T IT TOO AWFUL?”

Gladys at last is quite at home. The film has been classified. Young love is being thwarted by purse-proud parents.

Imogen waves aside a wagon of hors d’oeuvre.

“We had quite a scene. She came into my room before I was up and wanted to know all about last night. Apparently she heard me come in. And, oh Adam, I can’t tell you what dreadful things she’s been saying about you. My dear, what an odd luncheon—you’ve ordered everything I most detest.”

Adam drinks soup.

“THAT’S WHY I’M BEING SENT OFF TO THATCH THIS AFTERNOON. And Lady R. is going to talk to you seriously tonight. She’s put Mary and Andrew off so that she can get you alone. Adam, how can you expect me to eat all this? and you haven’t ordered yourself anything to drink.”

Adam eats an omelette alone. Imogen crumbles bread and talks to him.

“But, my dear, you mustn’t say anything against Basil because I simply adore him, and he’s got the loveliest, vulgarest mother—you’d simply love her.”

The steak tartare is wheeled up and made before them.

Close up; a dish of pulverized and bleeding meat: hands pouring in immoderate condiments.

“Do you know, Adam, I don’t think I do want this after all. It reminds me so of Henry.”

HALF PAST TWO.

Adam has finished luncheon.

“SO YOU SEE, DEAR, WE SHALL NEVER, NEVER MEET AGAIN—PROPERLY I MEAN. Isn’t it just too like Lady R. for words.”