Polly enters the drawing room and the girls cluster around her. Her costume promises to outshine the rest because she is the richest girl at Finishing School. Lucky for Polly, she is also a plain girl, and her simplicity attracts admiration. She holds in her hand a love letter from Paris addressed to her, though she won’t reveal its secrets. Not even his Christian name. It’s true that in these days of constant exposure one must care for the heart and make private its intimacies. But this serves only to feed the mouth chomping, wet foaming hunger of the girls. Their skins tingle with a feeling of not yet completeness. Maisie, Dulcie, Fay and Nancy, they know not yet a thing or two about love. Or rather, their bodies are desperate to learn. Energy humming off desire. But there isn’t really much to tell is there? I suspect you know how the feeling just as well as I do.