It might be the last.
Harry was at the bottom of the stairs as Joan came down.
"You're not going out ?" he asked.

She was still in day clothes, wearing a hat.
"Yes, I am, Harry." "Where?
Why ?" She laid her hand on his arm.

"Don't grudge Gilbert one evening,--his last.

I've been perfectly rotten to him all along." "Palgrave?
Are you going out with Palgrave ?" "Yes, to dine somewhere.

I want to, Harry, oh, for lots of reasons.