BENHAM (to Heaven). If anybody had told me a year ago that I should take service in a house where we only wore one hat—but there! God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform.
ALICE. Oh, but it isn’t as if Mr. Broxopp was just an ordinary gentleman. You mustn’t think that, Mr. Benham.
BENHAM. You all make too much of your Mr. Broxopp, my girl. After all, who is he? What’s his family?
ALICE. Well, there’s only Mr. Jack, of course.
BENHAM (contemptuously). Mr. Jack isn’t “family,” my girl. Mr. Jack is “hissue.” Not but what Mr. Jack is very well in his way. Eton and Oxford—I’ve nothing to say against that, though I happen to be [18]Cambridge myself. But who’s the family? Broxopp! There isn’t such a family.
ALICE. Well, but I’m sure he’s very rich, Mr. Benham.
BENHAM. Rich, yes, but what does he do with his money? Does he hunt or shoot? Does he entertain? Has he got a country-house?
ALICE (sticking to it). I’m sure you couldn’t find a nicer gentleman than Sir Roger Tenterden who lives next door, and came to dinner here only last Tuesday with his daughter.
BENHAM. Tenterden? Ah, now that is family, my girl. That’s the best I’ve heard of your Mr. Broxopp as yet. But you mustn’t stand talking here all the morning. Just go down and tell that young woman to wait until I send for her. They’re used to waiting.
ALICE. Yes, Mr. Benham.