The scene is LADY CHESHIRE's morning room, at ten o'clock on the following day. It is a pretty room, with white panelled walls; and chrysanthemums and carmine lilies in bowls. A large bow window overlooks the park under a sou'-westerly sky. A piano stands open; a fire is burning; and the morning's correspondence is scattered on a writing-table. Doors opposite each other lead to the maid's workroom, and to a corridor. LADY CHESHIRE is standing in the middle of the room, looking at an opera cloak, which FREDA is holding out.
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, Freda, suppose you just give it up!
FREDA. I don't like to be beaten.
LADY CHESHIRE. You're not to worry over your work. And by the way, I promised your father to make you eat more. [FREDA smiles.]
LADY CHESHIRE. It's all very well to smile. You want bracing up. Now don't be naughty. I shall give you a tonic. And I think you had better put that cloak away.
FREDA. I'd rather have one more try, my lady.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Sitting doom at her writing-table] Very well.
FREDA goes out into her workroom, as JACKSON comes in from the corridor.
JACKSON. Excuse me, my lady. There's a young woman from the village, says you wanted to see her.
LADY CHESHIRE. Rose Taylor? Ask her to come in. Oh! and Jackson the car for the meet please at half-past ten.
JACKSON having bowed and withdrawn, LADY CHESHIRE rises with worked signs of nervousness, which she has only just suppressed, when ROSE TAYLOR, a stolid country girl, comes in and stands waiting by the door.
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, Rose. Do come in! [ROSE advances perhaps a couple of steps.]
LADY CHESHIRE. I just wondered whether you'd like to ask my advice. Your engagement with Dunning's broken off, isn't it?
ROSE. Yes—but I've told him he's got to marry me.
LADY CHESHIRE. I see! And you think that'll be the wisest thing?
ROSE. [Stolidly] I don't know, my lady. He's got to.
LADY CHESHIRE. I do hope you're a little fond of him still.
ROSE. I'm not. He don't deserve it.
LADY CHESHIRE: And—do you think he's quite lost his affection for you?
ROSE. I suppose so, else he wouldn't treat me as he's done. He's after that—that—He didn't ought to treat me as if I was dead.
LADY CHESHIRE. No, no—of course. But you will think it all well over, won't you?
ROSE. I've a—got nothing to think over, except what I know of.
LADY CHESHIRE. But for you both to marry in that spirit! You know it's for life, Rose. [Looking into her face] I'm always ready to help you.
ROSE. [Dropping a very slight curtsey] Thank you, my lady, but I think he ought to marry me. I've told him he ought.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Sighing] Well, that's all I wanted to say. It's a question of your self-respect; I can't give you any real advice. But just remember that if you want a friend——
ROSE. [With a gulp] I'm not so 'ard, really. I only want him to do what's right by me.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With a little lift of her eyebrow—gently] Yes, yes—I see.
ROSE. [Glancing back at the door] I don't like meeting the servants.
LADY CHESHIRE. Come along, I'll take you out another way. [As they reach the door, DOT comes in.]
DOT. [With a glance at ROSE] Can we have this room for the mouldy rehearsal, Mother?
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, you can air it here.
Holding the door open for ROSE she follows her out. And DOT, with a book of "Caste" in her hand, arranges the room according to a diagram.
DOT. Chair—chair—table—chair—Dash! Table—piano—fire—window! [Producing a pocket comb] Comb for Eccles. Cradle?—Cradle—[She viciously dumps a waste-paper basket down, and drops a footstool into it] Brat! [Then reading from the book gloomily] "Enter Eccles breathless. Esther and Polly rise-Esther puts on lid of bandbox." Bandbox!
Searching for something to represent a bandbox, she opens the workroom door.
DOT. Freda?
FREDA comes in.
DOT. I say, Freda. Anything the matter? You seem awfully down. [FREDA does not answer.]
DOT. You haven't looked anything of a lollipop lately.
FREDA. I'm quite all right, thank you, Miss Dot.
DOT. Has Mother been givin' you a tonic?
FREDA. [Smiling a little] Not yet.
DOT. That doesn't account for it then. [With a sudden warm impulse] What is it, Freda?
FREDA. Nothing.
DOT. [Switching of on a different line of thought] Are you very busy this morning?
FREDA. Only this cloak for my lady.
DOT. Oh! that can wait. I may have to get you in to prompt, if I can't keep 'em straight. [Gloomily] They stray so. Would you mind?
FREDA. [Stolidly] I shall be very glad, Miss Dot.
DOT. [Eyeing her dubiously] All right. Let's see—what did I want?
JOAN has come in.
JOAN. Look here, Dot; about the baby in this scene. I'm sure I ought to make more of it.
DOT. Romantic little beast! [She plucks the footstool out by one ear, and holds it forth] Let's see you try!
JOAN. [Recoiling] But, Dot, what are we really going to have for the baby? I can't rehearse with that thing. Can't you suggest something, Freda?
FREDA. Borrow a real one, Miss Joan. There are some that don't count much.
JOAN. Freda, how horrible!
DOT. [Dropping the footstool back into the basket] You'll just put up with what you're given.
Then as CHRISTINE and MABEL LANFARNE Come in, FREDA turns abruptly and goes out.
DOT. Buck up! Where are Bill and Harold? [To JOAN] Go and find them, mouse-cat.
But BILL and HAROLD, followed by LATTER, are already in the doorway. They come in, and LATTER, stumbling over the waste-paper basket, takes it up to improve its position.
DOT. Drop that cradle, John! [As he picks the footstool out of it] Leave the baby in! Now then! Bill, you enter there! [She points to the workroom door where BILL and MABEL range themselves close to the piano; while HAROLD goes to the window] John! get off the stage! Now then, "Eccles enters breathless, Esther and Polly rise." Wait a minute. I know now. [She opens the workroom door] Freda, I wanted a bandbox.
HAROLD. [Cheerfully] I hate beginning to rehearse, you know, you feel such a fool.
DOT. [With her bandbox-gloomily] You'll feel more of a fool when you have begun. [To BILL, who is staring into the workroom] Shut the door. Now. [BILL shuts the door.]
LATTER. [Advancing] Look here! I want to clear up a point of psychology before we start.
DOT. Good Lord!
LATTER. When I bring in the milk—ought I to bring it in seriously— as if I were accustomed—I mean, I maintain that if I'm——
JOAN. Oh! John, but I don't think it's meant that you should——
DOT. Shut up! Go back, John! Blow the milk! Begin, begin, begin! Bill!
LATTER. [Turning round and again advancing] But I think you underrate the importance of my entrance altogether.
MABEL. Oh! no, Mr. Latter!
LATTER. I don't in the least want to destroy the balance of the scene, but I do want to be clear about the spirit. What is the spirit?
DOT. [With gloom] Rollicking!
LATTER. Well, I don't think so. We shall run a great risk, with this play, if we rollick.
DOT. Shall we? Now look here——!
MABEL. [Softly to BILL] Mr. Cheshire!
BILL. [Desperately] Let's get on!
DOT. [Waving LATTER back] Begin, begin! At last! [But JACKSON has came in.]
JACKSON. [To CHRISTINE] Studdenham says, Mm, if the young ladies want to see the spaniel pups, he's brought 'em round.
JOAN. [Starting up] Oh! come 'on, John! [She flies towards the door, followed by LATTER.]
DOT. [Gesticulating with her book] Stop! You—— [CHRISTINE and HAROLD also rush past.]
DOT. [Despairingly] First pick! [Tearing her hair] Pigs! Devils! [She rushes after them. BILL and MABEL are left alone.]
MABEL. [Mockingly] And don't you want one of the spaniel pups?
BILL. [Painfully reserved and sullen, and conscious of the workroom door] Can't keep a dog in town. You can have one, if you like. The breeding's all right.
MABEL. Sixth Pick?
BILL. The girls'll give you one of theirs. They only fancy they want 'em.
Mann. [Moving nearer to him, with her hands clasped behind her] You know, you remind me awfully of your father. Except that you're not nearly so polite. I don't understand you English-lords of the soil. The way you have of disposing of your females. [With a sudden change of voice] What was the matter with you last night? [Softly] Won't you tell me?
BILL. Nothing to tell.
MABEL. Ah! no, Mr. Bill.
BILL. [Almost succumbing to her voice—then sullenly] Worried, I suppose.
MABEL. [Returning to her mocking] Quite got over it?
BILL. Don't chaff me, please.
MABEL. You really are rather formidable.
BILL. Thanks.
MABEL, But, you know, I love to cross a field where there's a bull.
BILL. Really! Very interesting.
MABEL. The way of their only seeing one thing at a time. [She moves back as he advances] And overturning people on the journey.
BILL. Hadn't you better be a little careful?
MABEL. And never to see the hedge until they're stuck in it. And then straight from that hedge into the opposite one.
BILL. [Savagely] What makes you bait me this morning of all mornings?
MABEL. The beautiful morning! [Suddenly] It must be dull for poor Freda working in there with all this fun going on?
BILL. [Glancing at the door] Fun you call it?
MABEL, To go back to you,—now—Mr. Cheshire.
BILL. No.
MABEL, You always make me feel so Irish. Is it because you're so English, d'you think? Ah! I can see him moving his ears. Now he's pawing the ground—He's started!
BILL. Miss Lanfarne!
MABEL. [Still backing away from him, and drawing him on with her eyes and smile] You can't help coming after me! [Then with a sudden change to a sort of sierra gravity] Can you? You'll feel that when I've gone.
They stand quite still, looking into each other's eyes and FREDA, who has opened the door of the workroom stares at them.
MABEL. [Seeing her] Here's the stile. Adieu, Monsieur le taureau!
She puts her hand behind her, opens the door, and slips through, leaving BILL to turn, following the direction of her eyes, and see FREDA with the cloak still in her hand.
BILL. [Slowly walking towards her] I haven't slept all night.
FREDA. No?
BILL. Have you been thinking it over? [FREDA gives a bitter little laugh.]
BILL. Don't! We must make a plan. I'll get you away. I won't let you suffer. I swear I won't.
FREDA. That will be clever.
BILL. I wish to Heaven my affairs weren't in such a mess.
FREDA. I shall be—all—right, thank you.
BILL. You must think me a blackguard. [She shakes her head] Abuse me—say something! Don't look like that!
FREDA. Were you ever really fond of me?
BILL. Of course I was, I am now. Give me your hands.
She looks at him, then drags her hands from his, and covers her face.
BILL. [Clenching his fists] Look here! I'll prove it. [Then as she suddenly flings her arms round his neck and clings to him] There, there!
There is a click of a door handle. They start away from each other, and see LADY CHESHIRE regarding them.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Without irony] I beg your pardon.
She makes as if to withdraw from an unwarranted intrusion, but suddenly turning, stands, with lips pressed together, waiting.
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes?
FREDA has muffled her face. But BILL turns and confronts his mother.
BILL. Don't say anything against her!
LADY CHESHIRE. [Tries to speak to him and fails—then to FREDA] Please-go!
BILL. [Taking FREDA's arm] No.
LADY CHESHIRE, after a moment's hesitation, herself moves towards the door.
BILL. Stop, mother!
LADY CHESHIRE. I think perhaps not.
BILL. [Looking at FREDA, who is cowering as though from a blow] It's a d—-d shame!
LADY CHESHIRE. It is.
BILL. [With sudden resolution] It's not as you think. I'm engaged to be married to her.
[FREDA gives him a wild stare, and turns away.]
LADY CHESHIRE. [Looking from one to the other] I don't think I—quite—understand.
BILL. [With the brutality of his mortification] What I said was plain enough.
LADY CHESHIRE. Bill!
BILL. I tell you I am going to marry her.
LADY CHESHIRE. [To FREDA] Is that true?
[FREDA gulps and remains silent.]
BILL. If you want to say anything, say it to me, mother.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Gripping the edge of a little table] Give me a chair, please. [BILL gives her a chair.]
LADY CHESHIRE. [To FREDA] Please sit down too.
FREDA sits on the piano stool, still turning her face away.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Fixing her eyes on FREDA] Now!
BILL. I fell in love with her. And she with me.
LADY CHESHIRE. When?
BILL. In the summer.
LADY CHESHIRE. Ah!
BILL. It wasn't her fault.
LADY CHESHIRE. No?
BILL. [With a sort of menace] Mother!
LADY CHESHIRE. Forgive me, I am not quite used to the idea. You say that you—are engaged?
BILL. Yes.
LADY CHESHIRE. The reasons against such an engagement have occurred to you, I suppose? [With a sudden change of tone] Bill! what does it mean?
BILL. If you think she's trapped me into this——
LADY CHESHIRE. I do not. Neither do I think she has been trapped. I think nothing. I understand nothing.
BILL. [Grimly] Good!
LADY CHESHIRE. How long has this-engagement lasted?
BILL. [After a silence] Two months.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Suddenly] This is-this is quite impossible.
BILL. You'll find it isn't.
LADY CHESHIRE. It's simple misery.
BILL. [Pointing to the workroom] Go and wait in there, Freda.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Quickly] And are you still in love with her?
FREDA, moving towards the workroom, smothers a sob.
BILL. Of course I am.
FREDA has gone, and as she goes, LADY CHESHIRE rises suddenly, forced by the intense feeling she has been keeping in hand.
LADY CHESHIRE. Bill! Oh, Bill! What does it all mean? [BILL, looking from side to aide, only shrugs his shoulders] You are not in love with her now. It's no good telling me you are.
BILL. I am.
LADY CHESHIRE. That's not exactly how you would speak if you were.
BILL. She's in love with me.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Bitterly] I suppose so.
BILL. I mean to see that nobody runs her down.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With difficulty] Bill! Am I a hard, or mean woman?
BILL. Mother!
LADY CHESHIRE. It's all your life—and—your father's—and—all of us. I want to understand—I must understand. Have you realised what an awful thins this would be for us all? It's quite impossible that it should go on.
BILL. I'm always in hot water with the Governor, as it is. She and I'll take good care not to be in the way.
LADY CHESHIRE. Tell me everything!
BILL. I have.
LADY CHESHIRE. I'm your mother, Bill.
BILL. What's the good of these questions?
LADY CHESHIRE. You won't give her away—I see!
BILL. I've told you all there is to tell. We're engaged, we shall be married quietly, and—and—go to Canada.
LADY CHESHIRE. If there weren't more than that to tell you'd be in love with her now.
BILL. I've told you that I am.
LADY CHESHIRE. You are not. [Almost fiercely] I know—I know there's more behind.
BILL. There—is—nothing.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Baffled, but unconvinced] Do you mean that your love for her has been just what it might have been for a lady?
BILL. [Bitterly] Why not?
LADY CHESHIRE. [With painful irony] It is not so as a rule.
BILL. Up to now I've never heard you or the girls say a word against Freda. This isn't the moment to begin, please.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Solemnly] All such marriages end in wretchedness. You haven't a taste or tradition in common. You don't know what marriage is. Day after day, year after year. It's no use being sentimental—for people brought up as we are to have different manners is worse than to have different souls. Besides, it's poverty. Your father will never forgive you, and I've practically nothing. What can you do? You have no profession. How are you going to stand it; with a woman who—? It's the little things.
BILL. I know all that, thanks.
LADY CHESHIRE. Nobody does till they've been through it. Marriage is hard enough when people are of the same class. [With a sudden movement towards him] Oh! my dear-before it's too late!
BILL. [After a struggle] It's no good.
LADY CHESHIRE. It's not fair to her. It can only end in her misery.
BILL. Leave that to me, please.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With an almost angry vehemence] Only the very finest can do such things. And you don't even know what trouble's like.
BILL. Drop it, please, mother.
LADY CHESHIRE. Bill, on your word of honour, are you acting of your own free will?
BILL. [Breaking away from her] I can't stand any more. [He goes out into the workroom.]
LADY CHESHIRE. What in God's name shall I do?
In her distress she walks up and doom the room, then goes to the workroom door, and opens it.
LADY CHESHIRE. Come in here, please, Freda.
After a seconds pause, FREDA, white and trembling, appears in the doorway, followed by BILL.
LADY CHESHIRE. No, Bill. I want to speak to her alone.
BILL, does not move.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Icily] I must ask you to leave us.
BILL hesitates; then shrugging his shoulders, he touches FREDA's arms, and goes back into the workroom, closing the door. There is silence.
LADY CHESHIRE. How did it come about?
FREDA. I don't know, my lady.
LADY CHESHIRE. For heaven's sake, child, don't call me that again, whatever happens. [She walks to the window, and speaks from there] I know well enough how love comes. I don't blame you. Don't cry. But, you see, it's my eldest son. [FREDA puts her hand to her breast] Yes, I know. Women always get the worst of these things. That's natural. But it's not only you is it? Does any one guess?
FREDA. No.
LADY CHESHIRE. Not even your father? [FREDA shakes her head] There's nothing more dreadful than for a woman to hang like a stone round a man's neck. How far has it gone? Tell me!
FREDA. I can't.
LADY CHESHIRE. Come!
FREDA. I—won't.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Smiling painfully]. Won't give him away? Both of you the same. What's the use of that with me? Look at me! Wasn't he with you when you went for your holiday this summer?
FREDA. He's—always—behaved—like—a—gentleman.
LADY CHESHIRE. Like a man you mean!
FREDA. It hasn't been his fault! I love him so.
LADY CHESHIRE turns abruptly, and begins to walk up and down the room. Then stopping, she looks intently at FREDA.
LADY CHESHIRE. I don't know what to say to you. It's simple madness! It can't, and shan't go on.
FREDA. [Sullenly] I know I'm not his equal, but I am—somebody.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Answering this first assertion of rights with a sudden steeliness] Does he love you now?
FREDA. That's not fair—it's not fair.
LADY CHESHIRE. If men are like gunpowder, Freda, women are not. If you've lost him it's been your own fault.
FREDA. But he does love me, he must. It's only four months.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Looking down, and speaking rapidly] Listen to me. I love my son, but I know him—I know all his kind of man. I've lived with one for thirty years. I know the way their senses work. When they want a thing they must have it, and then—they're sorry.
FREDA. [Sullenly] He's not sorry.
LADY CHESHIRE. Is his love big enough to carry you both over everything?.... You know it isn't.
FREDA. If I were a lady, you wouldn't talk like that.
LADY CHESHIRE. If you were a lady there'd be no trouble before either of you. You'll make him hate you.
FREDA. I won't believe it. I could make him happy—out there.
LADY CHESHIRE. I don't want to be so odious as to say all the things you must know. I only ask you to try and put yourself in our position.
FREDA. Ah, yes!
LADY CHESHIRE. You ought to know me better than to think I'm purely selfish.
FREDA. Would you like to put yourself in my position?
LADY CHESHIRE. What!
FREDA. Yes. Just like Rose.
LADY CHESHIRE. [In a low, horror-stricken voice] Oh!
There is a dead silence, then going swiftly up to her, she looks straight into FREDA's eyes.
FREDA. [Meeting her gaze] Oh! Yes—it's the truth. [Then to Bill who has come in from the workroom, she gasps out] I never meant to tell.
BILL. Well, are you satisfied?
LADY CHESHIRE. [Below her breath] This is terrible!
BILL. The Governor had better know.
LADY CHESHIRE. Oh! no; not yet!
BILL. Waiting won't cure it!
The door from the corridor is thrown open; CHRISTINE and DOT run in with their copies of the play in their hands; seeing that something is wrong, they stand still. After a look at his mother, BILL turns abruptly, and goes back into the workroom. LADY CHESHIRE moves towards the window.
JOAN. [Following her sisters] The car's round. What's the matter?
DOT. Shut up!
SIR WILLIAM'S voice is heard from the corridor calling "Dorothy!" As LADY CHESHIRE, passing her handkerchief over her face, turns round, he enters. He is in full hunting dress: well-weathered pink, buckskins, and mahogany tops.
SIR WILLIAM. Just off, my dear. [To his daughters, genially] Rehearsin'? What! [He goes up to FREDA holding out his gloved right hand] Button that for me, Freda, would you? It's a bit stiff!
FREDA buttons the glove: LADY CHESHIRE and the girls watching in hypnotic silence.
SIR WILLIAM. Thank you! "Balmy as May"; scent ought to be first-rate. [To LADY CHESHIRE] Good-bye, my dear! Sampson's Gorse —best day of the whole year. [He pats JOAN on the shoulder] Wish you were cumin' out, Joan.
He goes out, leaving the door open, and as his footsteps and the chink of his spurs die away, FREDA turns and rushes into the workroom.
CHRISTINE. Mother! What——?
But LADY CHESHIRE waves the question aside, passes her daughter, and goes out into the corridor. The sound of a motor car is heard.
JOAN. [Running to the window] They've started—! Chris! What is it? Dot?
DOT. Bill, and her!
JOAN. But what?
DOT. [Gloomily] Heaven knows! Go away, you're not fit for this.
JOAN. [Aghast] I am fit.
DOT. I think not.
JOAN. Chris?
CHRISTINE. [In a hard voice] Mother ought to have told us.
JOAN. It can't be very awful. Freda's so good.
DOT. Call yourself in love, you milk-and-water-kitten!
CHRISTINE. It's horrible, not knowing anything! I wish Runny hadn't gone.
JOAN. Shall I fetch John?
DOT. John!
CHRISTINE. Perhaps Harold knows.
JOAN. He went out with Studdenham.
DOT. It's always like this, women kept in blinkers. Rose-leaves and humbug! That awful old man!
JOAN. Dot!
CHRISTINE. Don't talk of father like that!
DOT. Well, he is! And Bill will be just like him at fifty! Heaven help Freda, whatever she's done! I'd sooner be a private in a German regiment than a woman.
JOAN. Dot, you're awful.
DOT. You-mouse-hearted-linnet!
CHRISTINE. Don't talk that nonsense about women!
DOT. You're married and out of it; and Ronny's not one of these terrific John Bulls. [To JOAN who has opened the door] Looking for John? No good, my dear; lath and plaster.
JOAN. [From the door, in a frightened whisper] Here's Mabel!
DOT. Heavens, and the waters under the earth!
CHRISTINE. If we only knew!
MABEL comes in, the three girls are silent, with their eyes fixed on their books.
MABEL. The silent company.
DOT. [Looking straight at her] We're chucking it for to-day.
MABEL. What's the matter?
CHRISTINE. Oh! nothing.
DOT. Something's happened.
MABEL. Really! I am sorry. [Hesitating] Is it bad enough for me to go?
CHRISTINE. Oh! no, Mabel!
DOT. [Sardonically] I should think very likely.
While she is looking from face to face, BILL comes in from the workroom. He starts to walk across the room, but stops, and looks stolidly at the four girls.
BILL. Exactly! Fact of the matter is, Miss Lanfarne, I'm engaged to my mother's maid.
No one moves or speaks. Suddenly MABEL LANFARNE goes towards him, holding out her hand. BILL does not take her hand, but bows. Then after a swift glance at the girls' faces MABEL goes out into the corridor, and the three girls are left staring at their brother.
BILL. [Coolly] Thought you might like to know. [He, too, goes out into the corridor.]
CHRISTINE. Great heavens!
JOAN. How awful!
CHRISTINE. I never thought of anything as bad as that.
JOAN. Oh! Chris! Something must be done!
DOT. [Suddenly to herself] Ha! When Father went up to have his glove buttoned!
There is a sound, JACKSON has came in from the corridor.
JACKSON. [To Dot] If you please, Miss, Studdenham's brought up the other two pups. He's just outside. Will you kindly take a look at them, he says?
There is silence.
DOT. [Suddenly] We can't.
CHRISTINE. Not just now, Jackson.
JACKSON. Is Studdenham and the pups to wait, Mm?
DOT shakes her head violently. But STUDDENHAM is seen already standing in the doorway, with a spaniel puppy in either side-pocket. He comes in, and JACKSON stands waiting behind him.
STUDDENHAM. This fellow's the best, Miss DOT. [He protrudes the right-hand pocket] I was keeping him for my girl—a, proper greedy one—takes after his father.
The girls stare at him in silence.
DOT. [Hastily] Thanks, Studdenham, I see.
STUDDENHAM. I won't take 'em out in here. They're rather bold yet.
CHRISTINE. [Desperately] No, no, of course.
STUDDENHAM. Then you think you'd like him, Miss DOT? The other's got a white chest; she's a lady.
[He protrudes the left-hand pocket.]
DOT. Oh, yes! Studdenham; thanks, thanks awfully.
STUDDENHAM. Wonderful faithful creatures; follow you like a woman. You can't shake 'em off anyhow. [He protrudes the right-hand pocket] My girl, she'd set her heart on him, but she'll just have to do without.
DOT. [As though galvanised] Oh! no, I can't take it away from her.
STUDDENHAM. Bless you, she won't mind! That's settled, then. [He turns to the door. To the PUPPY] Ah! would you! Tryin' to wriggle out of it! Regular young limb! [He goes out, followed by JACKSON.]
CHRISTINE. How ghastly!
DOT. [Suddenly catching sight of the book in her hand] "Caste!" [She gives vent to a short sharp laugh.]
The curtain falls.