There seemed to be some confusion in the scripting mind* as to whether the meal the hooty horror was departing from was lunch (ok, well she said it was, and delicious to boot) or supper, what with her declining a cuppa and saying that the peckitty fratchety lovebirds needed ‘a quiet night’.
Sloppy writing.
*ha! I know…
I wondered about that.
I don’t think even the most determined “dinner is in the middle of the day” person calls the evening meal “lunch” in order to replace it, do they?
Not in my experience, no. But no doubt it will turn out to be A Thing, if queried sufficiently.
Not here, perhaps.
And anyone who didn’t know that is a vile lackey of the privileged classes who hates and despises those who lunch in the evening and longs to grind their handmade heel into the snivelling and starving lunchers.
That too…
Have we actually met, Marjorie? only you seem to know me so well ;- )
I’ve been to see a few spooky things over the Halloween period and my brain’s gone a bit suggestible. Kind of slightly blotting paperish. I fear you may be influencing me.
Oh, got it!!! Last week we saw The Turn of the Screw in the cemetery opposite us - Arnos Vale - and that’s all about suggestibility. I’ll just think of you as Miles&Flora 
I’ll take that as a compliment, Marjorie dere, and thank you kindly.
One has not actually lived, Eng. Lit.-wise, until one has heard The Wife of Bath’s Tale referenced, in the thickest of Belfast tones, as ‘The Turn of the Screwed’.