Lady A. My dear, my great grandmother was a Jewess.  I’m very proud of her.

Margaret.  Inoculated. [Stretching herself] Prejudices, Adela—­or are they loyalties—­I don’t know—­cris-cross—­we all cut each other’s throats from the best of motives.

Lady A. Oh!  I shall remember that.  Delightful! [Holding up a finger] You got it from Bergson, Meg.  Isn’t he wonderful?

Margaret.  Yes; have you ever read him?

Lady A. Well—­No. [Looking at the bedroom door] That poor child!  I quite agree.  I shall tell every body it’s ridiculous.  You don’t really think Ronald Dancy—?

Margaret.  I don’t know, Adela.  There are people who simply can’t live without danger.  I’m rather like that myself.  They’re all right when they’re getting the D.S.O. or shooting man-eaters; but if there’s no excitement going, they’ll make it—­out of sheer craving.  I’ve seen Ronny Dancy do the maddest things for no mortal reason except the risk.  He’s had a past, you know.

Lady A. Oh!  Do tell!

Margaret.  He did splendidly in the war, of course, because it suited him; but—­just before—­don’t you remember—­a very queer bit of riding?

Lady A. No.

Margaret.  Most dare-devil thing—­but not quite.  You must remember—­ it was awfully talked about.  And then, of course, right up to his marriage—­[She lights a cigarette.]

Lady A. Meg, you’re very tantalising!

Margaret.  A foreign-looking girl—­most plummy.  Oh!  Ronny’s got charm —­this Mabel child doesn’t know in the least what she’s got hold of!

Lady A. But they’re so fond of each other!

Margaret.  That’s the mistake.  The General isn’t mentioning the coat, is he?

Lady A. Oh, no!  It was only to Charles.

     Mabel returns.

Margaret.  Did you get him?

Mabel.  No; he’s not at Tattersall’s, nor at the Club.

     Lady Adela rises and greets her with an air which suggests
     bereavement.

Lady A. Nobody’s going to believe this, my dear.

Mabel. [Looking straight at her] Nobody who does need come here, or trouble to speak to us again.

Lady A. That’s what I was afraid of; you’re going to be defiant.  Now don’t!  Just be perfectly natural.

Mabel.  So easy, isn’t it?  I could kill anybody who believes such a thing.

Margaret.  You’ll want a solicitor, Mabel, Go to old Mr Jacob Twisden.

Lady A. Yes; he’s so comforting.

Margaret.  He got my pearls back once—­without loss of life.  A frightfully good fireside manner.  Do get him here, Mabel, and have a heart-to-heart talk, all three of you!

Mabel. [Suddenly] Listen!  There’s Ronny!