(The one charm of the past is that it is past. But women never know when the curtain has fallen.)

Lord Henry in ‘Dorian Gray’

Yvonne moved slowly up the long, brilliantly lighted Concert Hall. She bowed slightly to several acquaintances, faintly conscious of the men's admiring glances and the women's air of eager familiarity.

Suddenly she felt a slight pull at her skirt, and, looking down, saw Mrs Mason, a stout, moustached woman in an aggressively decollete dress, smiling and holding out her hand.

‘Good evening, Mrs Mason,’ said Yvonne, smiling also, and pressing the hand gently.

‘Good evening, Lady Mandeville… . All alone? I hope that your husband's not seedy?’

‘He's a little afraid that he's catching a cold in the head,’ Yvonne replied, ‘so thought it better to stay by the fire and nurse himself.’

‘O very wise, very wise indeed,’ said Mrs Mason, ruffling the lace on her bosom until she had all the appearance of a pigeon, ‘sickness is so very prevalent just now.’

‘Yes, wretchedly so,’ answered Yvonne.

‘My Ethel has had a frightful nosey cold and now it's gone to her chest with a horrid loose cough. Of course she makes a great fuss but I know the secret of all these things – good strong mustard plasters.’

‘Is that so,’ said Yvonne. She glanced at Mrs Mason's stout red arms and shivered slightly.

‘I hope you’re not catching anything,’ continued Mrs Mason, ‘you’re looking a little puffy about the eyes, my dear.’

She turned to a small pale woman seated beside her, whose paleness was accentuated by a great cluster of scarlet geraniums and maidenhair fern which crept up her left shoulder… . ‘May I introduce my friend Mrs Wood – ‘

‘ How do you do?’ said Yvonne, and moved to her seat.

‘What a distinguished looking woman,’ said Mrs Wood, ‘such grace, Amelia – she looks like a Du Maurier picture, doesn't she?’