"It is a pity that there are no radiators in this room," said Maud, ensconcing herself by the fire.
"It isn't that," said Paula curtly.
"I expect that's what gives Nat lumbago," said Maud. "Draughts -"
Valerie began to powder her nose before the mirror over the fireplace. Paula, who seemed to be restless, drifted about the room, smoking a cigarette, and nicking the ash on to the carpet.
Mathilda, taking a chair opposite to Maud, said: "I wish you wouldn't prowl, Paula. And if you could refrain from badgering Nat about your young friend's play I feel that this party might go with more of a swing."
"I don't care about that. It's vital to me to get Willoughby's play put on!"
"Love's young dream?" Mathilda cocked a quizzical eyebrow.
"Mathilda! Can't you understand that love doesn't come into it? It's art!"
"Sorry!" Mathilda apologised.
Maud, who had opened her book again, said: "Fancy! The Empress was only sixteen when Franz Josef fell in love with her! It was quite a romance."