Act I

It’s wonderful stuff. Where’s Zoe?

She was in the garden this morning.

I suppose no one thought of giving her any lunch?

I put it down by the kitchen table as usual, but she never came in for it.

She’s probably mousing.

She isn’t old enough yet. She might have fallen into the river, for all you care. I think it’s a shame!

Don’t you worry your head⁠—Zoe won’t come to any harm; she’s too wily.

I don’t want to be disturbed. Listen, Simon. There’s a perfectly sweet flapper coming down by the four-thirty. Will you go and meet her and be nice to her? She’s an abject fool, but a useful type, and I want to study her a little in domestic surroundings. She can sleep in the Japanese room.

I should like someone to play something very beautiful to me on the piano.