Julia.  How dare you say that?

Grace.  Dare!  I love him.  And I have refused his offer to marry me.

Julia (incredulous but hopeful).  You have refused!

Grace.  Yes:  because I will not give myself to any man who has learnt how to treat women from you and your like.  I can do without his love, but not without his respect; and it is your fault that I cannot have both.  Take his love then; and much good may it do you!  Run to him and beg him to have mercy on you and take you back.

Julia.  Oh, what a liar you are!  He loved me before he ever saw you—­before he ever dreamt of you, you pitiful thing.  Do you think I need go down on my knees to men to make them come to me?  That may be your experience, you creature with no figure:  it is not mine.  There are dozens of men who would give their souls for a look from me.  I have only to lift my finger.

Grace.  Lift it then; and see whether he will come.

Julia.  How I should like to kill you!  I don’t know why I don’t.

Grace.  Yes:  you like to get out of your difficulties cheaply—­at other people’s expense.  It is something to boast of, isn’t it, that dozens of men would make love to you if you invited them?

Julia (sullenly).  I suppose it’s better to be like you, with a cold heart and a serpent’s tongue.  Thank Heaven, I have a heart:  that is why you can hurt me as I cannot hurt you.  And you are a coward.  You are giving him up to me without a struggle.

Grace.  Yes, it is for you to struggle.  I wish you success. (She turns away contemptuously and is going to the dining-room door when Sylvia enters on the opposite side, followed by Cuthbertson and Craven, who come to Julia, whilst Sylvia crosses to Grace.)

Sylvia.  Here I am, sent by the faithful Paramore.  He hinted that I’d better bring the elder members of the family too:  here they are.  What’s the row?

Grace (quietly).  Nothing, dear.  There’s no row.

Julia (hysterically, tottering and stretching out her arms to Craven). 
Daddy!

Craven (taking her in his arms).  My precious!  What’s the matter?

Julia (through her tears).  She’s going to have me expelled from the club; and we shall all be disgraced.  Can she do it, Daddy?

Craven.  Well, really, the rules of this club are so extraordinary that I don’t know. (To Grace.) May I ask, Mrs. Tranfield, whether you have any complaint to make of my daughter’s conduct?

Grace.  Yes, Colonel Craven.  I am going to complain to the committee.

Sylvia.  I knew you’d overdo it some day, Julia. (Craven, at a loss, looks at Cuthbertson.)

Cuthbertson.  Don’t look at me, Dan.  Within these walls a father’s influence counts for nothing.

Craven.  May I ask the ground of complaint, Mrs. Tranfield?