TOMMY. They do pull my leg, don't they, Miss Farringdon?
[Enter BOB from the outer hall in a blue flannel suit. He has spoilt any chance he had of being considered handsome by a sullen expression now habitual. Two years older than Gerald, he is not so tall, but bigger, and altogether less graceful. He has got in the way of talking in rather a surly voice, as if he suspected that any interest taken in him was merely a polite one.]
GERALD. Hullo, Bob; good man.
BOB. Hullo. (He goes up to LADY FARRINGDON and kisses her.) How are you, mother?
LADY FARRINGDON. It's so nice that you could get away, dear.
BOB. How are you, father? All right?
SIR JAMES. Ah, Bob! Come down to see your brother play for the county?
PAMELA (quickly). He's come down to see me, haven't you, Bob?
BOB. Hullo, Wentworth. Hullo, Letty. I say, I can't shake hands with you all. (He smacks TOMMY on the back and goes over to Miss FARRINGDON.) How are you, dear?
MISS FARRINGDON. Very glad to see my elder great-nephew. I was getting tired of Gerald.