Lord Marchmain’s mistress arrived next day. I was nineteen years old and completely ignorant of women. I could not with any certainty recognize a prostitute in the streets. I was therefore not indifferent to the fact of living under the roof of an adulterous couple, but I was old enough to hide my interest. Lord Marchmain’s mistress, therefore, found me with a multitude of conflicting expectations about her, all of which were, for the moment, disappointed by her appearance. She was not a voluptuous Toulouse-Lautrec odalisque; she was not a ‘little bit of fluff’; she was a middle-aged, well-preserved, well-dressed, well-mannered woman such as I had seen in countless public places and occasionally met. Nor did she seem marked by any social stigma. On the day of her arrival we lunched at the Lido, where she was greeted at almost every table.

‘Vittoria Corombana has asked us all to her ball on Saturday.’

‘It is very kind of her. You know I do not dance,’ said Lord Marchmain.

‘But for the boys? It is a thing to be seen – the Corombona palace lit up for the ball. One does not know how many such balls there will be in the future.’

‘The boys can do as they like. We must refuse.’

‘And I have asked Mrs Hacking Brunner to luncheon. She has a charming daughter. Sebastian and his friend will like her.’

‘Sebastian and his friend are more interested in Bellini than heiresses.’