[The solicitor touches his arm and says something, to which the
     auctioneer responds with a nod.]

Mrs. H. Blow your nose, Jack.

     [Hillcrist blows his nose.]

Auctioneer.  For six thousand one hundred. [Dawker] And two.  Thank you. [Hornblower] And three.  For six thousand three hundred. [Dawker] And four.  For six thousand four hundred pounds.  This coveted property.  For six thousand four hundred pounds.  Why, it’s giving it away, gen’lemen. [A pause.]

Mrs. H. Giving!

Auctioneer.  Six thousand four hundred bid. [Hornblower] And five. [Dawker] And six. [Hornblower] And seven. [Dawker] And eight.

     [A pause, during which, through the door Left, someone beckons
     to the solicitor, who rises and confers.]

Hillcrist. [Muttering] I’ve done if that doesn’t get it.

Auctioneer.  For six thousand eight hundred.  For six thousand eight hundred-once—­[He taps] twice—­[He tape] For the last time.  This dominating site. [Hornblower] And nine.  Thank you.  For six thousand nine hundred.

     [Hillcrist has taken out his handkerchief.]

Jill.  Oh!  Dodo!

Mrs. H. [Quivering] Don’t give in!

Auctioneer.  Seven thousand may I say? [Dawker] Seven thousand.

Mrs. H. [Whispers] Keep it down; don’t show him.

Auctioneer.  For seven-thousand—­going for seven thousand—­once—­ [Taps] twice [Taps] [Hornblower] And one.  Thank you, sir.

[Hillcrist blows his nose.  Jill, with a choke, leans back in her seat and folds her arms tightly on her chest.  Mrs. Hillcrist passes her handkerchief over her lips, sitting perfectly still.  Hillcrist, too, is motionless.]

     [The auctioneer, has paused, and is talking to the solicitor,
     who has returned to his seat.]

Mrs. H. Oh!  Jack.

Jill.  Stick it, Dodo; stick it!

Auctioneer.  Now, gen’lemen, I have a bid of seven thousand one hundred for the Centry.  And I’m instructed to sell if I can’t get more.  It’s a fair price, but not a big price. [To his friend Mr. Spicer] A thumpin’ price? [With his smile] Well, you’re a judge of thumpin’, I admit.  Now, who’ll give me seven thousand two hundred?  What, no one?  Well, I can’t make you, gen’lemen.  For seven thousand one hundred.  Once—­[Taps] Twice—­[Taps].

     [Jill utters a little groan.]

Hillcrist. [Suddenly, in a queer voice] Two.