over at the terrace, quince buttonholes parrish, joe stand- ing by.
across the room, quince has pulled drew aside:
joe approaches susan.
drew crosses over to parrish.
drew appears unannounced in the doorway, exchanges a tense glance with susan, then heads straight for parrish who seems surprised to see him.
on a distant fringe of the party, a grass terrace that still commands a view of the dance floor, is joe. his eyes are on parrish and susan, he watches them admiringly yet ruefully. a waiter passes, catches sight of joe, stops.
on the dance floor.
down below, the party guests' faces are lit by the initial fireworks display. among them is susan, but her interest isn't there. not something pulls her attention, an over- powering feeling that compels her to turn and see, at a distance, parrish and joe walking away up the meadow. some- thing about the sight saddens and at the same time frightens her, she turns back to the party, dazed, tracing on the fireworks.
up the hill parrish's step slows, joe slowing with him.
down below, susan, in a pained reflex, again turns and looks up towards the hill. there is nobody there. she hesitates, now glides away from the party, her step quickens as she walks up towards the hill.