Craven.  Well, Jo, I may as well make a clean breast of it—­everybody knew it.  I married for money.

Cuthbertson (encouragingly).  And why not, Dan, why not?  We can’t get on without it, you know.

Craven (with sincere feeling).  I got to be very fond of her, Jo.  I had a home until she died.  Now everything’s changed.  Julia’s always here.  Sylvia’s of a different nature; but she’s always here too.

Cuthbertson (sympathetically).  I know.  It’s the same with Grace.  She’s always here.

Craven.  And now they want me to be always here.  They’re at me every day to join the club—­to stop my grumbling, I suppose.  That’s what I want to consult you about.  Do you think I ought to join?

Cuthbertson.  Well, if you have no conscientious objection—­

Craven (testily interrupting him).  I object to the existence of the place on principle; but what’s the use of that?  Here it is in spite of my objection, and I may as well have the benefit of any good that may be in it.

Cuthbertson (soothing him).  Of course:  that’s the only reasonable view of the matter.  Well, the fact is, it’s not so inconvenient as you might think.  When you’re at home, you have the house more to yourself; and when you want to have your family about you, you can dine with them at the club.

Craven (not much attracted by this).  True.

Cuthbertson.  Besides, if you don’t want to dine with them, you needn’t.

Craven (convinced).  True, very true.  But don’t they carry on here, rather?

Cuthbertson.  Oh, no, they don’t exactly carry on.  Of course the usual tone of the club is low, because the women smoke and earn their own living and all that; but still there’s nothing actually to complain of.  And it’s convenient, certainly. (Charteris comes in, looking round for them.)

Craven (rising).  Do you know, I’ve a great mind to join, just to see what it’s like.  Would you mind putting me up?

Cuthbertson.  Delighted, Dan, delighted. (He grasps Craven’s hand.)

Charteris (putting one hand on Craven’s shoulder and the other on Cuthbertson’s).  Bless you, my children! (Cuthbertson, a little wounded in his dignity, moves away.  The Colonel takes the jest in the utmost good humor.)

Craven (cordially).  Hallo!

Charteris (to Craven).  Hope I haven’t disturbed your chat by coming too soon.

Craven.  Not at all.  Welcome, dear boy. (Shakes his hand.)

Charteris.  That’s right.  I’m earlier than I intended.  The fact is, I have something rather pressing to say to Cuthbertson.

Craven.  Private!

Charteris.  Not particularly. (To Cuthbertson.) Only what we were speaking of last night.

Cuthbertson.  Well, Charteris, I think that is private, or ought to be.