BROXOPP (looking from it to her with a satisfied smile). Now, then, give me a kiss, and perhaps I’ll go.
NANCY. You’re only a boy still, Jim; much younger than Jack.
BROXOPP. Oh, Jack’s just at the age when they’re oldest. He’ll grow out of it. Now then, what about that kiss?
NANCY. Keep young, Jim. (She kisses him and he takes her in his arms.)
Enter BENHAM noiselessly.
BENHAM (addressing the ceiling). I beg your pardon, sir. (They disengage hastily.) But there’s a young woman called from one of the newspapers. I think she desires an interview for the journal with which she is connected. Or something of that nature, sir. (He hands BROXOPP her card.)
[22]BROXOPP. Ah, yes. Well, show her up then.
BENHAM. Yes, sir.
[He goes out.
BROXOPP (indignantly). What I say is this, Nancy. If a man can’t kiss his own wife, on his own sofa, without being interrupted, he isn’t living in a home at all; he’s living in an hotel. Now, I suppose that the dignified gentleman who has just left us despises us from the bottom of his heart. His Grace would never have been so vulgar as to kiss his own wife on the sofa.