Calway. [Pale with uncompleted statement, and gravitating insensibly in the direction indicated.] The merest sense of continuity—­a simple instinct for order——­

Hoxton. [Following.] The only way to get order, sir, is to bring the disorderly up with a round turn. [Calway turns to him in the doorway.] You people without practical experience——­

Calway.  If you’ll listen to me a minute.

Hoxton.  I can show you in a mo——­

     [They vanish through the door.]

Wellwyn.  I was afraid of it.

Bertley.  The two points of view.  Pleasant to see such keenness. 
I may want you, Wellwyn.  And Ann perhaps had better not be present.

Wellwyn. [Relieved.] Quite so!  My dear!

[Ann goes reluctantly.  Wellwyn opens the street door.  The lamp outside has just been lighted, and, by its gleam, is seen the figure of Rory Megan, thin, pale, youthful.  Ann turning at the door into the house gives him a long, inquisitive look, then goes.]

Wellwyn.  Is that Megan?

Megan.  Yus.

Wellwyn.  Come in.

     [Megan comes in.  There follows an awkward silence, during
     which Wellwyn turns up the light, then goes to the tea table
     and pours out a glass of tea and rum.]

Bertley. [Kindly.] Now, my boy, how is it that you and your wife are living apart like this?

Megan.  I dunno.

Bertley.  Well, if you don’t, none of us are very likely to, are we?

Megan.  That’s what I thought, as I was comin’ along.

Wellwyn. [Twinkling.] Have some tea, Megan? [Handing him the glass.] What d’you think of her picture?  ’Tisn’t quite finished.

Megan. [After scrutiny.] I seen her look like it—­once.

Wellwyn.  Good!  When was that?

Megan. [Stoically.] When she ’ad the measles.

     [He drinks.]

Wellwyn. [Ruminating.] I see—­yes.  I quite see feverish!

Bertley.  My dear Wellwyn, let me—­[To, Megan.] Now, I hope you’re willing to come together again, and to maintain her?

Megan.  If she’ll maintain me.

Bertley.  Oh! but—­I see, you mean you’re in the same line of business?

Megan.  Yus.

Bertley.  And lean on each other.  Quite so!

Megan.  I leans on ’er mostly—­with ’er looks.

Bertley.  Indeed!  Very interesting—­that!

Megan.  Yus.  Sometimes she’ll take ’arf a crown off of a toff. [He looks at Wellwyn.]

Wellwyn. [Twinkling.] I apologise to you, Megan.

Megan. [With a faint smile.] I could do with a bit more of it.