There is a silence.  Stealthily under the staircase Freda has
     entered, and seeing only Bill, advances to speak to him.

Bill. [Suddenly] Oh! well,—­you can’t help these things in the country.

     As he speaks, Freda stops dead, perceiving that he is not alone;
     Bill, too, catching sight of her, starts.

Lady Cheshire. [Still speaking to the fire] It seems dreadful to force him.  I do so believe in people doing things of their own accord. [Then seeing Freda standing so uncertainly by the stairs] Do you want me, Freda?

Freda.  Only your cloak, my lady.  Shall I—­begin it?

     At this moment sir William enters from the drawing-room.

Lady Cheshire.  Yes, yes.

Sir William. [Genially] Can you give me another five minutes, Bill? [Pointing to the billiard-room] We’ll come directly, my dear.

     Freda, with a look at Bill, has gone back whence she came; and
     lady Cheshire goes reluctantly away into the billiard-room.

Sir William.  I shall give young Dunning short shrift. [He moves over to the fireplace and divides hip coat-tails] Now, about you, Bill!  I don’t want to bully you the moment you come down, but you know, this can’t go on.  I’ve paid your debts twice.  Shan’t pay them this time unless I see a disposition to change your mode of life. [A pause] You get your extravagance from your mother.  She’s very queer—­[A pause]—­All the Winterleighs are like that about money....

Bill.  Mother’s particularly generous, if that’s what you mean.

Sir William. [Drily] We will put it that way. [A pause] At the present moment you owe, as I understand it, eleven hundred pounds.

Bill.  About that.

Sir William.  Mere flea-bite. [A pause] I’ve a proposition to make.

Bill.  Won’t it do to-morrow, sir?

Sir William.  “To-morrow” appears to be your motto in life.

Bill.  Thanks!

Sir William.  I’m anxious to change it to-day. [Bill looks at him in silence] It’s time you took your position seriously, instead of hanging about town, racing, and playing polo, and what not.

Bill.  Go ahead!

     At something dangerous in his voice, sir William modifies his
     attitude.

Sir, William.  The proposition’s very simple.  I can’t suppose anything so rational and to your advantage will appeal to you, but [drily] I mention it.  Marry a nice girl, settle down, and stand for the division; you can have the Dower House and fifteen hundred a year, and I’ll pay your debts into the bargain.  If you’re elected I’ll make it two thousand.  Plenty