An altruist

In a lavish Piccadilly drawing‑room, Wilfrid Bertram has been delivering a fervent lecture on altruism to a crowd of society’s elite. As the clock ticks toward six, the assembled guests grow restless, trading sarcastic remarks and yearning for a drink while the lecturer struggles to keep his ideas afloat amid boredom and contempt. The dialogue crackles with wit, exposing the gap between high‑brow moralizing and the trivial concerns of the privileged audience.

Bertram’s frustration mounts as he senses the very people he wishes to inspire dismiss his earnest arguments as “rot.” Yet among the snide comments and polite applause, a few listeners—particularly a sharp‑eyed young lady—hint at a deeper curiosity about his radical vision. The scene sets the stage for a clash between idealistic philosophy and the entrenched self‑interest of London’s upper class, promising a thoughtful exploration of what it truly means to act for the common good.