act is, I fell
attracted.

PRAED [sternly] What do you mean?

CROFTS. Oh, don't be alarmed: it's quite an innocent feeling. Thats what
puzzles me about it. Why, for all I know, _I_ might be her father.

PRAED. You! Impossible!

CROFTS [catching him up cunningly] You know for certain that I'm not?

PRAED. I know nothing about it, I tell you, any more than you. But
really, Crofts--oh no, it's out of the question. Theres not the least
resemblance.

CROFTS. As to that, theres no resemblance between her and her mother
that I can see. I suppose she's not y o u r daughter, is she?

PRAED [rising indignantly] Really, Crofts--!

CROFTS. No offence, Praed. Quite allowable as between two men of the
world.

PRAED [recovering himself with an effort and speaking gently and
gravely] Now listen to me, my dear Crofts. [He sits down again].

I have nothing to do with that side of Mrs Warren's life, and never had.
She has never spoken to me about it; and of course I have never spoken
to her about it. Your delicacy will tell you that a handsome woman needs
some friends who are not--well, not on that footing with her. The effect
of her own beauty would become a torment to her if she could not escape
from it occasionally. You are probably on much more confidential terms
with Kitty than I am. Surely you can ask her the question yourself.

CROFTS. I h a v e asked her, often enough. But she's so determined to
keep the child all to herself that she would deny that it ever had a
father if she could. [Rising] I'm thoroughly uncomfortable about it,
Praed.

PRAED [rising also] Well, as you are, at all events, old enough to be
her father, I don't mind agreeing that we both regard Miss Vivie in a
parental way, as a young girl who we are bound to protect and help. What
do you say?

CROFTS [aggressively] I'm no older than you, if you come to that.

PRAED. Yes you are, my dear fellow: you were born old. I was born a boy:
Ive never been able to feel the assurance of a grown-up man in my life.
[He folds his chair and carries it to the porch].

MRS WARREN [calling from within the cottage] Prad-dee! George!
Tea-ea-ea-ea!

CROFTS [hastily] She's calling us. [He hurries in].

[Praed shakes his head bodingly, and is following Crofts when he is
hailed by a young gentleman who has just appeared on the common, and is
making for the gate. He is pleasant, pretty, smartly dressed, cleverly
good-for-nothing, not long turned 20, with a charming vo