Sir Randle.
And what ground, sir, have you for anticipating that you will ever achieve popularity as a writer?
Lady Filson.
[Sitting in the chair by the round table.] Preposterous!
Ottoline.
[Stamping her foot.] Mother——! [To Sir Randle.] Philip has high expectations of his next novel, Dad. It is to be published in the autumn—September.
Sir Randle.
[To Philip.] And should that prove no more successful with the "wide public" than those which have preceded it——?
Philip.
Then I—then I fling another at 'em.