Mortal Coils

In a sun‑dappled country drawing‑room, the self‑styled gentleman Mr. Hutton drifts among photos of ancient Rome and a cheap water‑colour of a street artist, half‑laughing at his own vanity. He smooths his once‑auburn moustache, muses on Shakespeare and Milton, and feels the familiar sting of his own pretensions. The room suddenly feels less empty when his hostess, Miss Janet Spence, appears with a composed, enigmatic smile that Hutton has once likened to the Mona Lisa.

Their conversation is a delicate dance of polite compliments and thinly veiled sarcasm; Hutton teases himself about being the “Christ of Ladies” while Janet’s Gioconda‑like expression seems both a shield and a challenge. As they settle, Hutton mentions a sickly patient, Emily, hinting at a tangled domestic web that lies just beyond the polished surface. The opening scene sets a tone of witty observation and subtle tension, promising a portrait of social mores and hidden desires in a world where appearances are carefully curated.