 You must forgive me for being rather frowsy, but I've been working hard. Father, this is Mr. Gretem. How are you? When do you arrive? This afternoon. Good. Have some tea. Everyone had better put their own milk and sugar in, or we shall get muddled. Where's your mother, Simon? She was last seen in the punt. How extraordinary. She can't punt. Sandy Tyrrell's with her. Oh, well. She'll be all right, then. Who's he? I don't know. Do sit down, everybody.