[Twenty years ago, Lady Pat's daughter, Pen, left home to live with a group of gypsies. Lady Pat has just learned that Pen, now calling herself Nib, has died, and seems to be taking the news very calmly]
Jack Boult: Lady Pat, I'm so sorry.
Lady Patricia Broughall: Oh it's all right. Pen died a long time ago for me. I've done my grieving. What's the matter, Jack, do you think I'm heartless?
Jack Boult: No.
Lady Patricia Broughall: I don't believe in all that church stuff - all those explanations and absolutions - but I *do* believe in life. Penny decided to live her life the way she wanted.
Jack Boult: And you can just accept it?
Lady Patricia Broughall: [hesitantly] I think she found more pleasure being with her friends than she did at home. And that's good.
Jack Boult: But she was your *daughter*...
Lady Patricia Broughall: She was a free spirit. Like me. Hilly's just the same. You can love people and hope that things turn out all right for them, but in the end, people make their own lives - for better or worse.
Harriet Boult: Are you going to tell Hilly?
Lady Patricia Broughall: No I don't think so. Better leave things as they are, really. I can't live in the past. People of my age do all the time. We've got to exorcise our demons. Don't you think Jack? It's not the past, it's the present that's so interesting.
