A little before eight Ambrose appeared in the drawing-room only to find it completely deserted, but the crystal chandeliers were ablaze with light and there were flowers everywhere, crimson and saffron roses, Madonna lilies nodding on their long stalks, great clusters of pale-purple orchids. An orchestra on the brick terrace was playing Sometimes I'm Happy. Feeling infinitely depressed, Ambrose lighted a cigarette.
While he had been dressing for dinner he had requested his valet to bring him three cocktails. He wondered now if he dared ask for another. Why not? he demanded boldly and aloud, as he crossed the room to press a button.
After he had gulped down his fourth cocktail he began to feel less anxiety about his social début in Hollywood and was even prepared to face Mama who now descended the stairs. She was bravely caparisoned in mauve satin. Around her throat hung a gold chain while two heavy Victorian gold bracelets encircled her chubby wrists. After his encounter with Mama in the garden the previous morning he
