Here in Seacliff, San Francisco, Paul Barbour's car has just pulled into the driveway. He's late tonight, it's after 8pm. Now he goes up the back steps, greets Mrs Kettleman who is doing the dishes at the sink in the kitchen, and pauses a moment at the library to exchange a pleasant word with his parents. Joan has called Paul a few times while he was out, and now is going to head over to visit him in the studio. Maybe she needs the sympathetic ear of her understanding uncle.