‘She’s dining and going to a play with a suitably chaperoned party.’

‘Does she see anything of Rose Birnbaum?’

‘My dear Roderick, who on earth is Rose Birnbaum?’

‘She’s Mrs Halcut-Hackett’s burden for the season. Her professional burden.’

‘Oh, that gel! Poor little thing, yes. I’ve noticed her. I don’t know if Sarah pays much attention. Why?’

‘I wish you’d ask her here some time. Not a seasonable party. She’s got an inferiority complex about them. She’s one of the more unfortunate by-products of the season.’

‘I see. I wonder why that singularly hard woman has involved herself with a paying protégée. Are the Halcut-Hacketts short of money?’

‘I don’t know. I should think she might be at the moment.’

‘Withers,’ said Lady Alleyn.

‘Hullo. You know all about Withers, do you?’

‘My dear Rory, you forget I sit in chaperones’ corner.’

‘Gossip,’ said Alleyn.

‘The gossip is not as malicious as you may think. I always maintain that men are just as avid scandalmongers as women.’

‘I know you do.’

‘Mrs Halcut-Hackett is not very popular, so they don’t mind talking about her in chaperones’ corner. She’s an opportunist. She never gives an invitation that will not bring its reward and she never accepts one that is likely to lower her prestige. She is not a kind woman. She’s extremely common, but that doesn’t matter. Lots of common people are charming. Like bounders. I believe no woman ever falls passionately in love with a man unless he has just the least touch of the bounder somewhere in his composition.’

‘Really, mama!’

‘I mean in a very rarified sense. A touch of arrogance. There’s nothing like it, my dear. If you’re too delicately considerate of a woman’s feelings she may begin by being grateful, but the chances are she’ll end by despising you.’

Alleyn made a wry face. ‘Treat ’em rough?’

‘Not actually, but let them think you might. It’s humiliating but true that ninety-nine women out of a hundred like to feel their lover is capable of bullying them. Eighty of them would deny it. How often does one not hear a married woman say with a sort of satisfaction that her husband won’t let her do this or that? Why do abominably written books with strong silent heroes still find a large female public? What do you suppose attracts thousands of women to a cinema actor with the brains of a mosquito?’

‘His ability as a cinema actor.’

‘That, yes. Don’t be tiresome, Roderick. Above all, his arrogant masculinity. That’s what attracts ninety-nine out of a hundred, you may depend upon it.’

‘There is, perhaps fortunately, always the hundredth woman.’

‘And don’t be too sure of her. I am not, I hope, one of those abominable women who cries down her own sex. I’m by way of being a feminist, but I refuse to allow the ninety-nine (dear me, this begins to sound like a hymn) to pull the wool over the elderly eyes.’