Julia (coming coaxingly between them).  Oh, please don’t begin arguing again.  Do go to the smoking room, Daddy:  Mr. Cuthbertson will wonder what has become of you.

Craven.  Very well, very well:  I’ll go.  But you’re really not reasonable to-day, Paramore, to talk that way of fair sport—­

Julia.  Sh—­sh (coaxing him toward the door).

Craven.  Well, well, I’m off. (He goes good-humoredly, pushed out by
Julia.)

Julia (turning at the door with her utmost witchery of manner).  Don’t look so disappointed, Dr. Paramore.  Cheer up.  You’ve been most kind to us; and you’ve done papa a lot of good.

Paramore (delighted, rushing over to her).  How beautiful it is of you to say that to me, Miss Craven!

Julia.  I hate to see any one unhappy.  I can’t bear unhappiness. (She runs out, casting a Parthian glance at him as she flies.  Paramore stands enraptured, gazing after her through the glass door.  Whilst he is thus absorbed Charteris comes in from the dining room and touches him on the arm.)

Paramore (starting).  Eh!  What’s the matter?

Charteris (significantly).  Charming woman, isn’t she, Paramore? 
(Looking admiringly at him.) How have you managed to fascinate her?

Paramore.  I!  Do you really mean—­ (He looks at him; then recovers himself and adds coldly.) Excuse me:  this is a subject I do not care to jest about. (He walks away from Charteris down the side of the room, and sits down in an easy chair reading his Journal to intimate that he does not wish to pursue the conversation.)

Charteris (ignoring the hint and coolly taking a chair beside him).  Why don’t you get married, Paramore?  You know it’s a scandalous thing for a man in your profession to be single.

Paramore (shortly, still pretending to read).  That’s my own business, not yours.

Charteris.  Not at all:  it’s pre-eminently a social question.  You’re going to get married, aren’t you?

Paramore.  Not that I am aware of.

Charteris (alarmed).  No!  Don’t say that.  Why?

Paramore (rising angrily and rapping one of the silence placards).  Allow me to call your attention to that. (He crosses to the easy chair near the revolving bookstand, and flings himself into it with determined hostility.)

Charteris (following him, too deeply concerned to mind the rebuff).  Paramore:  you alarm me more than I can say.  You’ve been and muffed this business somehow.  I know perfectly well what you’ve been up to; and I fully expected to find you a joyful accepted suitor.

Paramore (angrily).  Yes, you have been watching me because you admire Miss Craven yourself.  Well, you may go in and win now.  You will be pleased to hear that I am a ruined man.

Charteris.  You!  Ruined!  How?  The turf?