WENTWORTH. Oh no.
GERALD (to himself). Thank God.
SIR JAMES (to LADY FARRINGDON as he looks at his watch). Well, dear, I really think you ought to try to eat something.
LADY FARRINGDON. I couldn't, James. (Getting up) But you must have your lunch.
SIR JAMES. Well, one oughtn't to neglect one's health, of course. But I insist on your having a glass of claret anyhow, Mary. What about you, Gerald?
GERALD. I'm all right. I'll wait for Bob. I've had something.
LADY FARRINGDON. You won't let Bob go without seeing us?
GERALD. Of course not, dear.
(He goes with them to the door and sees them out.)
GERALD (coming back to WENTWORTH). Three months. By Jove! that's nothing.