Bill.  I shall marry her.

Lady Cheshire.  Oh!  Bill!  Without love-without anything!

Bill.  All right, mother! [To sir William] you’ve mistaken your man, sir.  Because I’m a rotter in one way, I’m not necessarily a rotter in all.  You put the butt end of the pistol to Dunning’s head yesterday, you put the other end to mine to-day.  Well! [He turns round to go out] Let the d—–­d thing off!

Lady Cheshire.  Bill!

Bill. [Turning to her] I’m not going to leave her in the lurch.

Sir William.  Do me the justice to admit that I have not attempted to persuade you to.

Bill.  No! you’ve chucked me out.  I don’t see what else you could have done under the circumstances.  It’s quite all right.  But if you wanted me to throw her over, father, you went the wrong way to work, that’s all; neither you nor I are very good at seeing consequences.

Sir William.  Do you realise your position?

Bilk. [Grimly] I’ve a fair notion of it.

Sir William. [With a sudden outburst] You have none—­not the faintest, brought up as you’ve been.

Bill.  I didn’t bring myself up.

Sir William. [With a movement of uncontrolled anger, to which his son responds] You—­ungrateful young dog!

Lady Cheshire.  How can you—­both?
[They drop their eyes, and stand silent.]

Sir William. [With grimly suppressed emotion] I am speaking under the stress of very great pain—­some consideration is due to me.  This is a disaster which I never expected to have to face.  It is a matter which I naturally can never hope to forget.  I shall carry this down to my death.  We shall all of us do that.  I have had the misfortune all my life to believe in our position here—­to believe that we counted for something—­that the country wanted us.  I have tried to do my duty by that position.  I find in one moment that it is gone—­ smoke—­gone.  My philosophy is not equal to that.  To countenance this marriage would be unnatural.

Bill.  I know.  I’m sorry.  I’ve got her into this—­I don’t see any other way out.  It’s a bad business for me, father, as well as for you——­

     He stops, seeing that Jackson has route in, and is standing
     there waiting.

Jackson.  Will you speak to Studdenham, Sir William?  It’s about young Dunning.

     After a moment of dead silence, sir William nods, and the butler
     withdraws.

Bill. [Stolidly] He’d better be told.

Sir William.  He shall be.

     Studdenham enters, and touches his forehead to them all with a
     comprehensive gesture.

Studdenham.  Good evenin’, my lady!  Evenin’, Sir William!