y already, hasnt he? Read that
paper.

GUNNER. When I tell the truth, you make me go back on it. And now
you want me to go back on myself! What is a man to do?

PERCIVAL. _[patiently]_ Please try to get your mind clear, Mr Brown.
I pointed out to you that you could not, as a gentleman, disparage a
lady's character. You agree with me, I hope.

GUNNER. Yes: that sounds all right.

PERCIVAL. But youre also bound to tell the truth. Surely youll not
deny that.

GUNNER. Who's denying it? I say nothing against it.

PERCIVAL. Of course not. Well, I ask you to tell the truth simply
and unaffectedly. Did you witness any improper conduct on my part
when you were in the bath?

GUNNER. No, sir.

JOHNNY. | Then what do you mean by saying that--
|
HYPATIA. | Do you mean to say that I--
|
BENTLEY. | Oh, you are a rotter. Youre afraid--

TARLETON. _[rising]_ Stop. _[Silence]._ Leave it at that. Enough
said. You keep quiet, Johnny. Mr Percival: youre whitewashed. So
are you, Patsy. Honors are easy. Lets drop the subject. The next
thing to do is to open a subscription to start this young man on a
ranch in some far country thats accustomed to be in a disturbed state.
He--

MRS TARLETON. Now stop joking the poor lad, John: I wont have it.
Has been worried to death between you all. _[To Gunner]_ Have you
had your tea?

GUNNER. Tea? No: it's too early. I'm all right; only I had no
dinner: I didnt think I'd want it. I didnt think I'd be alive.

MRS TARLETON. Oh, what a thing to say! You mustnt talk like that.

JOHNNY. Hes out of his mind. He thinks it's past dinner-time.

MRS TARLETON. Oh, youve no sense, Johnny. He calls his lunch his
dinner, and has his tea at half-past six. Havnt you, dear?

GUNNER. _[timidly]_ Hasnt everybody?

JOHNNY. _[laughing]_ Well, by George, thats not bad.

MRS TARLETON. Now dont be rude, Johnny: you know I dont like it.
_[To Gunner]_ A cup of tea will pick you up.

GUNNER. I'd rather not. I'm all right.

TARLETON. _[going to the sideboard]_ Here! try a mouthful of sloe
gin.

GUNNER. No, thanks. I'm a teetotaler. I cant touch alcohol in any
form.

TARLETON. Nonsense! This isnt alcohol. Sloe gin. Vegetarian, you
know.

GUNNER. _[hesitating]_ Is it a fruit beverage?

TARLETON. Of course it is. Fruit beverage. Here you are. _[He
gives him a glass of sloe gin]