Ha! An extract from a novel of Mr. Mackworth's apparently!
Lady Filson.
[Harshly.] Ha, ha, ha, ha——!
Ottoline.
[Turning sharply and coming forward.] Sssh! Don't you sneer, mother! Don't you sneer, Dad! [Her eyes flashing.] C'est au-dessus de vous de sentir ce qu'il y a d'élevé et de grand! [Fiercely.] Tenez! Qu'il vous plaise ou non——!
[She is checked by the entrance of Underwood from the hall.
Underwood.
[Addressing the back of Lady Filson's head.] Mr. Philip Mackworth, m'lady.
Lady Filson.
[Straightening herself.] Not for me. [Firmly.] For Madame de Chaumié.