at the foot of the stairs,
looking after her. There is silence for a moment._)

BOBBIE. That's torn it.

JOYCE. Now what are we to do?

SYLVIA (_moving down_). I know. (_At head of table._)

OLIVER. What, then?

SYLVIA. Apologise to Uncle Dan, every one of you, for being such utter
beasts.

OLIVER. Well, I'm hanged!

(_During the following speech, the others continue their breakfasts._)

SYLVIA. So you jolly well ought to be. Who do you owe your position in
the motor works to, Oliver? Uncle Dan. Who do you owe your song
successes to, Bobbie? Uncle Dan. And you, Joyce, d'you think you'd have
won a single thing if it hadn't been for him? Do you imagine Evangeline
would have had the vim to have stuck to her novel if it hadn't been for
Uncle Dan's faith in her? I know I should never have done a thing,
either. And all we did it for apparently, was that he could die off
conveniently and leave us his money--the moment he'd done that I suppose
we should have stopped working. What charming characters! Waiting for a
man to die, and then getting disagreeable because he says he doesn't
want to. Do you think any one of you would stop work now for anything?
Of course you wouldn't. I know _that_. Don't you see that Uncle Dan
chose the one and only way of really helping us? He's worked wonders and
we ought to be thankful to him until our dying day....

BOBBIE (_marmalade on toast in hand_). It's all very fine for you--he
hasn't come between you and the only person you've ever loved....

SYLVIA. And that's one of the best things of all--he's been the means of
showing Faith up in her true colours. Bobbie, you must realise now in
your heart of hearts what a rotter she is?

BOBBIE. She wouldn't have been if it wasn't for her beastly mother. Just
because you found him out before us, by a fluke, you think you can
preach to us about being rude to him. Well, you'd have been just as bad
under the same circumstances, if not worse. The fact of you having
spotted his game doesn't make it any the less disgusting. He's behaved
atrociously and you know it, making fools of us all. What do you think
my friends will say? Joyce's school girls? Vangy's literary nuts?

SYLVIA (_coming down_ R. _to below Chesterfield_). It's your own silly
faults. You shouldn't have told them.

EVANGELINE (_rising_). Don't be so superior. Of course we only did in
confidence. (_Going up_ R., _followed by_ JOYCE.)

SYLVIA. Well, that's not Uncle Dan's fault,