Harold.  Poor old chap!

Bill.  It’s not as if she’d tried to force me into it.  And she’s a soft little thing.  Why I ever made such a sickening ass of myself, I can’t think.  I never meant——­

Harold.  No, I know!  But, don’t do anything rash, Bill; keep your head, old man!

Bill.  I don’t see what loss I should be, if I did clear out of the country. [The sound of cannoning billiard balls is heard] Who’s that knocking the balls about?

Harold.  John, I expect. [The sound ceases.]

Bill.  He’s coming in here.  Can’t stand that!

     As latter appears from the billiard-room, he goes hurriedly out.

Latter.  Was that Bill?

Harold.  Yes.

Latter.  Well?

Harold. [Pacing up and down in his turn] Rat in a cage is a fool to him.  This is the sort of thing you read of in books, John!  What price your argument with Runny now?  Well, it’s not too late for you luckily.

Latter.  What do you mean?

Harold.  You needn’t connect yourself with this eccentric family!

Latter.  I’m not a bounder, Harold.

Harold.  Good!

Latter.  It’s terrible for your sisters.

Harold.  Deuced lucky we haven’t a lot of people staying here!  Poor mother!  John, I feel awfully bad about this.  If something isn’t done, pretty mess I shall be in.

Latter.  How?

Harold.  There’s no entail.  If the Governor cuts Bill off, it’ll all come to me.

Latter.  Oh!

Harold.  Poor old Bill!  I say, the play!  Nemesis!  What?  Moral! 
Caste don’t matter.  Got us fairly on the hop.

Latter.  It’s too bad of Bill.  It really is.  He’s behaved disgracefully.

Harold. [Warningly] Well!  There are thousands of fellows who’d never dream of sticking to the girl, considering what it means.

Latter.  Perfectly disgusting!

Harold.  Hang you, John!  Haven’t you any human sympathy?  Don’t you know how these things come about?  It’s like a spark in a straw-yard.

Latter.  One doesn’t take lighted pipes into strawyards unless one’s an idiot, or worse.

Harold.  H’m! [With a grin] You’re not allowed tobacco.  In the good old days no one would hive thought anything of this.  My great-grandfather——­

Latter.  Spare me your great-grandfather.

Harold.  I could tell you of at least a dozen men I know who’ve been through this same business, and got off scot-free; and now because Bill’s going to play the game, it’ll smash him up.

Latter.  Why didn’t he play the game at the beginning?

Harold.  I can’t stand your sort, John.  When a thing like this happens, all you can do is to cry out:  Why didn’t he—?  Why didn’t she—?  What’s to be done—­that’s the point!