Janet. (Rising to Carve, winningly.) Now—Ilam. You're only laying up trouble for yourself, and for me too. Do please think of the trial. You know how shy you are, and how
[149]you tremble at the mere thought of a witness-box.
Cyrus. I can believe it.
Carve. (Smiling at Janet.) I've got past shyness. I think it was the visit of my fine stalwart sons yesterday that cured me of shyness. I doubt if I shall ever be shy any more.
Janet. (Appealingly.) Dearest, to please me!
Carve. (Curt now for the first time, with a flash of resentment.) No.
Janet. (After a slight pause; hurt and startled; with absolute conviction, to Lord Leonard Alcar.) It's no use. He's made up his mind.
Ebag. I have an idea that I can persuade—
Janet. (Hotly.) Excuse me. You can't.
Ebag. I have an idea I can. But (hesitates) the fact is, not in the presence of ladies.