JACK (surprised). Yours?
BROXOPP (on his own hearth—THE GREAT BROXOPP—but speaking quietly). I was educated at a Board school, Iris—I daresay you’ve noticed it. I used to drop my aitches—I don’t think you’ve noticed that—Nancy got me out of it. I wear funny clothes—partly because it is in keeping with the name I have made for myself; partly, I daresay, because I’ve got no taste. But, you see, at fourteen, the age at which Jack went to Eton, I was earning my own living. I took a resolve then. I told myself that one day I would make my name of Broxopp famous. I made it famous. My name; Broxopp. Well, that’s all. That’s my point of view. But don’t think I don’t see yours.
(IRIS looks at him wonderingly and then goes over and sits by NANCY’S side.)
IRIS. You must be very, very proud of him.
NANCY. I am, dear; he knows it.
JACK (miserably). Well, of course, when you talk like that, you only make me feel an utter beast.
IRIS (with a sigh). The only thing is that the utter beast feeling might pass off. Whereas the feeling about Broxopp’s Beans never will. It’s a rotten thing to say, but I expect it’s true.
(There is a moment’s silence, broken by the arrival of SIR ROGER TENTERDEN. He is a magnificent-looking man, with a military moustache and [37]tight-fitting black tail-coat with a light waistcoat. His manner is superb—the sort of manner that can borrow a thousand pounds from anybody and leave the creditor with the feeling that he has had a favour conferred upon him. He is an intense egotist, although his company does not always realise it.
The three BROXOPPS are distinctly overawed by him; JACK, of course, less than the other two.)
BENHAM (enjoying it). Sir Roger Tenterden!