I will stick to port and sherry,

For they are so very, very,

So very, very, very Vegetarian

G. K. Chesterton

The fact that the earl and countess agreed to their daughter’s attending Angela Stockton’s lecture accompanied only by her new companion was prompted by parental weariness. Where had they gone wrong? They had supplied her with the best governess – or so they had believed – and the fact that they saw very little of her until she became of an age to be a débutante could not surely have created any problem, for she had been brought up as a lady of her class.

They had enjoyed their visit to Nice, the long miles separating them from their unruly daughter having largely served to put Rose out of their minds. Angela Stockton’s lecture seemed a safe enough place for her to be seen. Also, there was the carrot of Mrs Stockton’s marriageable son.

Luncheon was to be served before the lecture. Mrs Stockton’s impressive home was in Knightsbridge. Daisy, self-conscious in her new grand clothes supplied from Rose’s wardrobe, felt she would have enjoyed the outing better had not Lady Polly sent her lady’s maid, Humphrey, to keep an eye on them. Daisy was conscious the whole time of Humphrey’s hot and jealous eyes.

A fork luncheon was served in a long dining-room. The other guests were women of indeterminate age, some of them wearing very odd clothes, consisting of cotton embellished with cabalistic designs. There were a few men, mostly reedy and starved-looking.

Mrs Angela Stockton greeted them warmly. She was dressed in black velvet with stars and moons embroidered in silver around the hem of her gown. A heavy silver belt was around her waist and silver necklaces jangled from her thin neck. She had hair of an improbable shade of red, piled up and held in place with what looked like two ivory chopsticks. Her heavily rouged mouth was surrounded by a radius of wrinkles. Her eyes, outlined in kohl, were very large and pale blue.

‘I am flattered that one so young and beautiful should grace my humble home,’ she said. ‘May I introduce my son, Peregrine.’

Daisy reflected that Peregrine looked like a stage-door Johnny. He had thick black hair, well-oiled, and a thick luxuriant black moustache. His waistcoat was a violent affair of red and gold silk.

Rose and Daisy moved on into the dining-room. ‘Rabbit food,’ hissed Daisy.

They helped themselves to nut cutlets and salad. There was no wine, simply jugs of water.

Daisy and Rose sat down at a table. ‘It’s quite tasty but they might at least have served the nut cutlets hot,’ complained Rose. ‘And this house is abominably cold.’ She signalled to Humphrey and asked her to fetch her fur coat from the ante-room where they had left their outer wrappings. ‘Miss Levine’s coat as well.’