“What will you find to do all that time in Oyster Bay?” he asked more irritably.
“What a premature question! The yacht is there. Besides, there's the usual neighbourhood hunting, with the usual packs and inevitable set; the usual steeple-chasing; the usual exchange of social amenities; the usual driving and riding; the usual, my poor friend, the usual, in all its uncompromising certainty.... And what are you to do?”
“When?”
“After you leave here?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know where you are going?”
“I'm going to town.”
“And then?”
“I don't know.”
“Oh, but haven't you been asked somewhere? You have, of course.”