Stand up when I speak to you!

[BERTRAM _gets to his feet in a hurry._

LADY FILSON.

[_Appealingly._] Otto----!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] All your life you've been paltry, odious, detestable----

BERTRAM.

Look heah----!

OTTOLINE.

But _this_! My God! For you--for any of us--to impugn the honesty of a
man whose shadow we're not fit to walk in----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON_--pained._] Winifred----!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] You--you--you're no better than your common, hired
spy----!

LADY FILSON.

[_Rising and going to_ OTTOLINE.] My child, remember----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Clenching her hands and hissing her words at_ BERTRAM.] _C'est la
verite! Tu n'es qu'une canaille--une vile canaille----!_

LADY FILSON.

Control yourself, I _beg_!

OTTOLINE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON.] Leave me alone----!

[_She passes_ LADY FILSON _and sits on the settee on the
right with glittering eyes and heaving bosom._ PHILIP
_has withdrawn to the fireplace and is standing looking
into the fire._

LADY FILSON.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] Bertie dear, I'm surprised at you! To do a thing like
this behind our backs!

BERTRAM.

My dear mother, I knew that you and father wouldn't do it----

LADY FILSON.

I should think not, indeed!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ BERTRAM.] Your mother and I!

LADY FILSON.

[_Horrified at the notion._] Oh!

BERTRAM.

Upon my word, this is rather rough! [_Walking away._] I mean to
_say_----!

PHILIP.

[_Turning._] We mustn't be too hard on poor Bertram, Lady Filson----

BERTRAM.

[_Pacing the room near the big doors._] Poor Bertram! Ho!

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ PHILIP.] I trust we are never unduly hard on our children, my
dear Philip----

PHILIP.

To do him justice, he was most anxious to postpone these dreadful
revelation