Sir William.  My good fellow, you know the custom of the country.

Dunning.  Yes, Sir William, but——­

Sir William.  You should have looked before you leaped.  I’m not forcing you.  If you refuse you must go, that’s all.

Dunning.  Yes.  Sir William.

Sir William.  Well, now go along and take a day to think it over.

     Bill, who has sauntered moody from the diningroom, stands by the
     stairs listening.  Catching sight of him, Dunning raises his
     hand to his forelock.

Dunning.  Very good, Sir William. [He turns, fumbles, and turns again] My old mother’s dependent on me——­

Sir William.  Now, Dunning, I’ve no more to say.
     [Dunning goes sadly away under the stairs.]

Sir William. [Following] And look here!  Just understand this
     [He too goes out....]

     Bill, lighting a cigarette, has approached the writing-table. 
     He looks very glum.  The billiard-room door is flung open. 
     Mabel Lanfarne appears, and makes him a little curtsey.

Mabel.  Against my will I am bidden to bring you in to pool.

Bill.  Sorry!  I’ve got letters.

Mabel.  You seem to have become very conscientious.

Bill.  Oh!  I don’t know.

Mabel.  Do you remember the last day of the covert shooting?

Bits.  I do.

Mabel. [Suddenly] What a pretty girl Freda Studdenham’s grown!

Bill.  Has she?

Mabel.  “She walks in beauty.”

Bill.  Really?  Hadn’t noticed.

Mabel.  Have you been taking lessons in conversation?

Bill.  Don’t think so.

Mabel.  Oh! [There is a silence] Mr. Cheshire!

Bill.  Miss Lanfarne!

Mabel.  What’s the matter with you?  Aren’t you rather queer, considering that I don’t bite, and was rather a pal!

Bill. [Stolidly] I’m sorry.

     Then seeing that his mother has came in from the billiard-room,
     he sits down at the writing-table.

Lady Cheshire.  Mabel, dear, do take my cue.  Won’t you play too,
Bill, and try and stop Ronny, he’s too terrible?

Bill.  Thanks.  I’ve got these letters.

Mabel taking the cue passes back into the billiard-room, whence comes out the sound of talk and laughter.

Lady Cheshire. [Going over and standing behind her son’s chair]
Anything wrong, darling?

Bill.  Nothing, thanks. [Suddenly] I say, I wish you hadn’t asked that girl here.

Lady Cheshire.  Mabel!  Why?  She’s wanted for rehearsals.  I thought you got on so well with her last Christmas.