a frank figure, with the face of a
rebel.

DOT. You little being!

JOAN. [Flying towards the drawing-roam, is overtaken at the door]
Oh! Dot! You're pinching!

As they disappear into the drawing-room, MABEL LANFARNE, a tall
girl with a rather charming Irish face, comes slowly down. And
at sight of her FREDA's whole figure becomes set and meaningfull.

FREDA. For you, Miss Lanfarne, from my lady.

MABEL. [In whose speech is a touch of wilful Irishry] How sweet!
[Fastening the roses] And how are you, Freda?

FREDA. Very well, thank you.

MABEL. And your father? Hope he's going to let me come out with the
guns again.

FREDA. [Stolidly] He'll be delighted, I'm sure.

MABEL. Ye-es! I haven't forgotten his face-last time.

FREDA. You stood with Mr. Bill. He's better to stand with than Mr.
Harold, or Captain Keith?

MABEL. He didn't touch a feather, that day.

FREDA. People don't when they're anxious to do their best.

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 a