Jill.  What’s the time, Dodo?

Hillcrist. [Looking at his watch] Three minutes past.

Jill. [Sighing] Oh, hell!

Hillcrist. Jill!

Jill.  Sorry, Dodo.  I was only thinking.  Look!  Here he is! 
Phew!—­isn’t he——?

Mrs. H.  ’Sh!

The auctioneer comes in Left and goes to the table.  He is a square, short, brown-faced, common looking man, with clipped grey hair fitting him like a cap, and a clipped grey moustache.  His lids come down over his quick eyes, till he can see you very sharply, and you can hardly see that he can see you.  He can break into a smile at any moment, which has no connection with him, as it were.  By a certain hurt look, however, when bidding is slow, he discloses that he is not merely an auctioneer, but has in him elements of the human being.  He can wink with anyone, and is dressed in a snug-brown suit, with a perfectly unbuttoned waistcoat, a low, turned down collar, and small black and white sailor knot tie.  While he is settling his papers, the Hillcrists settle themselves tensely.  Chloe has drunk her water and leaned back again, with the smelling salts to her nose.  Rolf leans forward in the seat beside her, looking sideways at Jill.  A solicitor, with a grey beard, has joined the auctioneer, at his table.

Auctioneer. [Tapping the table] Sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but I’ve only one property to offer you to-day, No. 1, The Centry, Deepwater.  The second on the particulars has been withdrawn.  The third that’s Bidcot, desirable freehold mansion and farmlands in the Parish of Kenway—­we shall have to deal with next week.  I shall be happy to sell it you then with out reservation. [He looks again through the particulars in his hand, giving the audience time to readjust themselves to his statements] Now, gen’lemen, as I say, I’ve only the one property to sell.  Freehold No. 1—­all that very desirable corn and stock-rearing and parklike residential land known as the Centry, Deepwater, unique property an A.1. chance to an A.1. audience. [With his smile] Ought to make the price of the three we thought we had.  Now you won’t mind listening to the conditions of sale; Mr. Blinkard’ll read ’em, and they won’t wirry you, they’re very short.

     [He sits down and gives two little tape on the table.]

[The solicitor rises and reads the conditions of sale in a voice which no one practically can hear.  Just as he begins to read these conditions of sale, Charles Hornblower enters at back.  He stands a moment, glancing round at the Hillcrist and twirling his moustache, then moves along to his wife and touches her.]

Charles.  Chloe, aren’t you well?

     [In the start which she gives, her face is fully revealed to
     the audience.]