[Stiffly.] Ottoline is her own mistress, Mr. Mackworth; [more amiably] but apart from her, you will receive a card from me—music—Tuesday, July the eighth.
[He bows and she crosses to the fireplace. Then he shakes hands with Sir Randle, who has risen and is standing in the middle of the room.
Philip.
[To Sir Randle.] Good-bye.
Sir Randle.
[Detaining Philip, searchingly.] Er—pardon me—this new novel of yours, on which you place so much reliance—pray don't think me curious——
Ottoline.
[Suddenly.] Ha! [Coming to the back of the settee on the right, her eyes gleaming scornfully at Sir Randle.] Tell my father, Philip—tell him——
Philip.
[Shaking his head at her and frowning.] Otto——