A gong sounds. And MABEL LANFARNE, giving FREDA a rather
inquisitive stare, moves on to the drawing-room. Left alone
without the roses, FREDA still lingers. At the slamming of a
door above, and hasty footsteps, she shrinks back against the
stairs. BILL runs down, and comes on her suddenly. He is a
tall, good-looking edition of his father, with the same stubborn
look of veiled choler.

BILL. Freda! [And as she shrinks still further back] what's the
matter? [Then at some sound he looks round uneasily and draws away
from her] Aren't you glad to see me?

FREDA. I've something to say to you, Mr. Bill. After dinner.

BILL. Mister----?

She passes him, and rushes away upstairs. And BILL, who stands
frowning and looking after her, recovers himself sharply as the
drawing-room door is opened, and SIR WILLIAM and MISS LANFARNE
come forth, followed by KEITH, DOT, HAROLD, CHRISTINE, LATTER,
and JOAN, all leaning across each other, and talking. By
herself, behind them, comes LADY CHESHIRE, a refined-looking
woman of fifty, with silvery dark hair, and an expression at
once gentle, and ironic. They move across the hall towards the
dining-room.

SIR WILLIAM. Ah! Bill.

MABEL. How do you do?

KEITH. How are you, old chap?

DOT. [gloomily] Do you know your part?

HAROLD. Hallo, old man!

CHRISTINE gives her brother a flying kiss. JOAN and LATTER pause and
look at him shyly without speech.

BILL. [Putting his hand on JOAN's shoulder] Good luck, you two!
Well mother?

LADY CHESHIRE. Well, my dear boy! Nice to see you at last. What a
long time!

She draws his arm through hers, and they move towards the
dining-room.

The curtain falls.

The curtain rises again at once.

SCENE II

CHRISTINE, LADY CHESHIRE, DOT, MABEL LANFARNE,
and JOAN, are returning to the hall after dinner.

CHRISTINE. [in a low voice] Mother, is it true about young Dunning
and Rose Taylor?

LADY CHESHIRE. I'm afraid so, dear.

CHRISTINE. But can't they be----

DOT. Ah! ah-h! [CHRISTINE and her mother are silent.] My child, I'm
not the young person.

CHRISTINE. No, of course not--only--[nodding towards JOAN and
Mable].

DOT. Look here! This is just an instance of what I hate.

LADY CHESHIRE. My dear? Another one?

DOT. Yes, mother, and don't you pretend you don't understand,
because you know