] I say--these are
jolly, aren't they? They do you pretty well here.

CLARE. Do they?

YOUNG MAN. You've never been here? [CLARE shakes her head] By Jove!
I thought I didn't know your face. [CLARE looks full at him. Again
something moves in the YOUNG MAN, and he stammers] I mean--not----

CLARE. It doesn't matter.

YOUNG MAN. [Respectfully] Of course, if I--if you were waiting for
anybody, or anything--I----

[He half rises]

CLARE. It's all right, thank you.

The YOUNG MAN sits down again, uncomfortable, nonplussed. There
is silence, broken by the inaudible words of the languid lord,
and the distant merriment of the supper-party. ARNAUD brings
the plovers' eggs.

YOUNG MAN. The wine, quick.

ARNAUD. At once, Sare.

YOUNG MAN. [Abruptly] Don't you ever go racing, then?

CLARE. No.

[ARNAUD pours out champagne]

YOUNG MAN. I remember awfully well my first day. It was pretty
thick--lost every blessed bob, and my watch and chain, playin' three
cards on the way home.

CLARE. Everything has a beginning, hasn't it?

[She drinks. The YOUNG MAN stares at her]

YOUNG MAN. [Floundering in these waters deeper than he had bargained
for] I say--about things having beginnings--did you mean anything?

[CLARE nods]

YOUNG MAN. What! D'you mean it's really the first----?

CLARE nods. The champagne has flicked her courage.

YOUNG MAN. By George! [He leans back] I've often wondered.

ARNAUD. [Again filling the glasses] Monsieur finds----

YOUNG MAN. [Abruptly] It's all right.

He drains his glass, then sits bolt upright. Chivalry and the
camaraderie of class have begun to stir in him.

YOUNG MAN. Of course I can see that you're not--I mean, that you're
a--a lady. [CLARE smiles] And I say, you know--if you have to--
because you're in a hole--I should feel a cad. Let me lend you----?

CLARE. [Holding up her glass] 'Le vin est tire, il faut le boire'!

She drinks. The French words, which he does not too well
understand, completing his conviction that she is a lady, he
remains quite silent, frowning. As CLARE held up her glass, two
gentlemen have entered. The first is blond, of good height and
a comely insolence. His crisp, fair hair, and fair brushed-up
moustache are just going grey; an eyeglass is fixed in one of
two eyes that lord it over every woman they see; his face is