me--filming seems to require a certain amount of unwomanly
abandon!

SYLVIA (_at back of Chesterfield, laughing_). I was only telling him
about that day in the middle of the village street, when I had to do
three "close ups" on top of one another.

MRS. DERMOTT. It all sounds vaguely immoral to me, but I hope it's all
right.

DANIEL. Define the expression "close up." What does it mean?

SYLVIA. When they bring the camera right up to your face and you have to
register various emotions--fear--suspicion--joy--yearning--sorrow--(_she
does them_) that's a close up.

MRS. DERMOTT. Isn't she wonderful?

MRS. CROMBIE. It really is most entertaining.

DANIEL. I think they ought to film Evangeline's novel--it's chock full
of incident.

EVANGELINE (_rising, poses by mantel_). Yes, uncle, but only
psychological incident--they want luridly exciting episodes for a real
thriller. I mean to write a scenario one day though, it's a money-making
game. (_Sits again._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Do, dear--but please don't make the heroine jump out of
attic windows or anything--it _is_ so trying for Sylvia--I shall never
forget Westminster Bridge and that horse.

DANIEL. It appears to be a most dashing profession.

MRS. DERMOTT (_with pride_). Oh, it is. Sylvia does the most thrilling
things, I assure you. She had to rescue the Rajah from a burning house
in Piccadilly only last Wednesday. It caused a great sensation.

DANIEL. So I should imagine, but why was the Rajah burning in
Piccadilly?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, it wasn't a real Rajah of course--but he was supposed
to be in the clutch of Bolshevists--or was that another film, Sylvia?--I
get so muddled----

SYLVIA. It was another film, mother, but it doesn't matter. How's your
illness, Uncle Dan? You look pretty bright.

DANIEL. Oh, I expect to be quite cheery right up to the last.

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Danny dear, don't talk about it.

DANIEL (_with meaning_). I always think we attach too much importance to
life and death.

MRS. CROMBIE (_acidly_). It depends on circumstances, of course.

DANIEL (_dramatically_). Out there where I come from----

JOYCE. Go on, uncle, do tell us.

DANIEL. I was just going to, only you interrupted me--out there on the
limitless prairie, a man's life is not considered worth that much. (_He
tries to snap his fingers without any success._) There now, I can never
do that properly--that much. (_He tries again._) Damn!

BOBBIE. I can do it, uncle. (_He doe