In dead silence
the FOOTMAN puts the tray down.
HAROLD. [Forcing his voice] Did you get a run, Ronny? [As KEITH
nods] What point?
KEITH. Eight mile.
FOOTMAN. Will you take tea, sir?
KEITH. No, thanks, Charles!
In dead silence again the FOOTMAN goes out, and they all look
after him.
HAROLD. [Below his breath] Good Gad! That's a squeeze of it!
KEITH. What's our line of country to be?
CHRISTINE. All depends on father.
KEITH. Sir William's between the devil and the deep sea, as it
strikes me.
CHRISTINE. He'll simply forbid it utterly, of course.
KEITH. H'm! Hard case! Man who reads family prayers, and lessons
on Sunday forbids son to----
CHRISTINE, Ronny!
KEITH. Great Scott! I'm not saying Bill ought to marry her. She's
got to stand the racket. But your Dad will have a tough job to take
up that position.
DOT. Awfully funny!
CHRISTINE. What on earth d'you mean, Dot?
DOT. Morality in one eye, and your title in the other!
CHRISTINE. Rubbish!
HAROLD. You're all reckoning without your Bill.
KEITH. Ye-es. Sir William can cut him off; no mortal power can help
the title going down, if Bill chooses to be such a----
[He draws in his breath with a sharp hiss.
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