“Look, Ada, St. Paul’s Cathedral.”

King Edward Street. The cab stops and Adam gets out.

LORD BASINGSTOKE’S ROOMS.

KING EDWARD STREET.

Interior of Lord Basingstoke’s rooms. On the chimneypiece are photographs of Lord Basingstoke’s mother and two of Lord Basingstoke’s friends, wearing that peculiarly inane and serene smile only found during the last year at Eton and then only in photographs. Some massive glass paper weights and cards of invitation.

On the walls are large coloured caricatures of Basil Hay drawn by himself at Eton, an early nineteenth-century engraving of Lord Basingstoke’s home; two unfinished drawings by Ernest Vaughan of the Rape of the Sabines and a wool picture of two dogs and a cat.

Lord Basingstoke, contrary to all expectation, is neither drinking, gaming, nor struggling with his riding boots; he is engaged on writing a Collections Paper for his tutor.

Lord Basingstoke’s paper in a pleasant, childish handwriting.

“BRADLAUGH v. GOSSETT. THIS FAMOUS TEST CASE FINALLY ESTABLISHED THE DECISION THAT MARSHAL LAW IS UNKNOWN IN ENGLAND.”

He crosses out “marshal” and puts “martial”; then sits biting his pen sadly.

“Adam, how lovely; I had no idea you were in Oxford.”

They talk for a little while.

“RICHARD, CAN YOU DINE WITH ME TONIGHT. YOU MUST. I’M HAVING A FAREWELL BLIND.” Richard looks sadly at his Collections Paper and shakes his head.

“My dear, I simply can’t. I’ve got to get this finished by tonight. I’m probably going to be sent down as it is.”

Adam returns to his taxi.

MR. SAYLE’S ROOMS IN MERTON.

Flowers, Medici prints and Nonesuch Press editions. Mr. Sayle is playing “L’Après midi d’un Faun” on the gramophone to an American aunt. He cannot dine with Adam.

MR. HENRY QUEST’S ROOMS IN