the Museum Gala.
The Hinchberger wedding.
Let me think...
(sits back, eyes closed)
Hordes of men in tuxedos. Everyone's
droning. Ludwell's trying to break
the ice by reciting an off-color
I'll send your regrets. Honestly,
why must I even bother?
Because, if you don't know about
society, you don't have the
satisfaction of avoiding it.
Elizabeth on line three.
Nicholas taps his fingers on his lips, considering.
I know who she is.
Take a message.
Um... Happy Birthday, sir.
Thank you, Maggie.
I don't like her.
I wouldn't mention the following,
except he was very insistent. It's
obviously some sort of prank...
a lunch, but I assured him...
What gentleman, Maria?
A Mister... Seymour Butts.
Nicholas looks up. He sits back, lost in thought.
"Under the Bleachers"... by Seymour
Pardon me? I'm afraid I don't...
Cancel lunch. Make reservations at
Campton Place for me and Mr. Butts.
And, put the reservation in my name.
A WAITRESS arrives.
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