The Luncheon
William Somerset Maugham 1874-1965
I caught sight of her at the play and, in answer to her
beckoning, I went over during the interval and sat down
beside her. It was long since I had last seen her and if
someone had not mentioned her name I hardly think I would
have recognised her. She addressed me brightly.
‘Well, it’s many years since we first met. How time
does fly! We’re none of us getting any younger. Do you
remember the first time I saw you? You asked me to
luncheon.’
Did I remember?
