Never!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Perhaps you had better not come to tea with me quite so frequently in the future, Claude.
Claude.
You are right; you, and others, must see less of me. [Turning to her.] And yet, Kate, I am not all bad!
Sir Fletcher Portwood enters. He is fifty-one, amiable, pompous, egotistical, foolish.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Why didn’t you wait for me, Claude, my boy?
Claude.
Sorry; my brain was reeling.