LADY FILSON.

[_Giving him a reluctant hand and eyeing him askance with mingled
aversion and indignation._] H-how do you do?

PHILIP.

This is very good of you. [_Bowing to_ SIR RANDLE.] How are you, Sir
Randle?

SIR RANDLE.

[_His head in the air, severely._] How do you do, Mr. Mackworth?

PHILIP.

[_Breaking the ice._] We--we meet after many years----

SIR RANDLE.

Many.

LADY FILSON.

[_Still examining_ PHILIP.] M-many.

PHILIP.

And--if you've ever bestowed a thought on me since the old Paris
days--in a way you can scarcely have expected.

LADY FILSON.

[_Turning to the writing-table to conceal her repugnance._] Scarcely.

SIR RANDLE.

Scarcely.

PHILIP.

[_To_ SIR RANDLE.] Oh, I am not vain enough, Sir Randle, to flatter
myself that what you have heard from Ottoline gives you and Lady Filson
unmixed pleasure. On the contrary----

LADY FILSON.

[_Gulping._] Pleasure! [_Unable to repress herself._] Unmixed--! Ho,
ho, ho, ho----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Restraining her._] Winifred----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Coming to_ LADY FILSON _and touching her gently--in a low voice._]
Mother----!

PHILIP.

[_Smiling at_ OTTOLINE _apologetically._] It's my fault; I provoked
that. [_Walking away to the right._] I expressed myself rather
clumsily, I'm afraid.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Expanding his chest and advancing to_ PHILIP.] I gather from my
daughter, Mr. Mackworth, that you are here for the purpose of
"explaining your position" in relation to her. I believe I quote her
words accurately----

OTTOLINE.

[_Moving to the fireplace._] Yes, Dad.

PHILIP.

That is so, Sir Randle--if you and Lady Filson will have the
patience----

[SIR RANDLE _motions_ PHILIP _to the settee on the
right._ PHILIP _sits. Then_ OTTOLINE _sits on the settee
before the fireplace, and_ SIR RANDLE _in the arm-chair
by_ PHILIP. LADY FILSON _turns in her chair to listen._