[Bertram, aghast, nudges Dunning and hurries to the vestibule door. Dunning follows him into the vestibule on tiptoe. Slowly and deliberately Philip moves to the middle of the room and stands there with his hands clenched, glaring into space. Sir Randle, his jaw falling, sits in the chair on the extreme left.
Lady Filson.
[Touching Philip's arm sympathetically.] Oh, Philip——!
Dunning.
[To Bertram, in a whisper.] Phiou! Rummy development this, Mr. Filson!
Bertram.
[To Dunning, in the same way.] Awful. [Opening the outer door.] I—I'll see you in the m-m-morning.
Dunning.
Pleasure. [Raising his voice.] Evening, ladies and gentlemen.
Lady Filson.