ll events, I've not inquired into your affairs. I can only
judge by the--er--pecuniary evidence you've been good enough to
afford me from time to time. I imagine you've lived like a good many
young men in your position--I'm not blaming you, but there's a time
for all things.

BILL. Why don't you say outright that you want me to marry Mabel
Lanfarne?

SITS WILLIAM. Well, I do. Girl's a nice one. Good family--got a
little money--rides well. Isn't she good-looking enough for you, or
what?

BILL. Quite, thanks.

SIR WILLIAM. I understood from your mother that you and she were on
good terms.

BILL. Please don't drag mother into it.

SIR WILLIAM. [With dangerous politeness] Perhaps you'll be good
enough to state your objections.

BILL. Must we go on with this?

SIR WILLIAM. I've never asked you to do anything for me before; I
expect you to pay attention now. I've no wish to dragoon you into
this particular marriage. If you don't care for Miss Lanfarne, marry
a girl you're fond of.

BILL. I refuse.

SIR WILLIAM. In that case you know what to look out for. [With a
sudden rush of choler] You young.... [He checks himself and stands
glaring at BILL, who glares back at him] This means, I suppose, that
you've got some entanglement or other.

BILL. Suppose what you like, sir.

SITS WILLIAM. I warn you, if you play the blackguard----

BILL. You can't force me like young Dunning.

Hearing the raised voices LADY CHESHIRE has come back from the
billiard-room.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Closing the door] What is it?

SIR WILLIAM. You deliberately refuse! Go away, Dorothy.

LADY CHESHIRE. [Resolutely] I haven't seen Bill for two months.

SIR WILLIAM. What! [Hesitating] Well--we must talk it over again.

LADY CHESHIRE. Come to the billiard-room, both of you! Bill, do
finish those letters!

With a deft movement she draws SIR WILLIAM toward the
billiard-room, and glances back at BILL before going out, but he
has turned to the writing-table. When the door is closed, BILL
looks into the drawing-room, them opens the door under the
stairs; and backing away towards the writing-table, sits down
there, and takes up a pen. FREDA who has evidently been
waiting, comes in and stands by the table.

BILL. I say, this is dangerous, you know.

FREDA. Yes--but I must.

BILL. Well, then--[With natural recklessness] Aren't you going to
kiss me?

W