FRANKLYN. Yes, if you promise to behave yourself.
SAVVY [making a wry face] That will be a treat, wont it?
THE PARLOR MAID [entering and announcing] Mr Joyce Burge.
Haslam hastily moves to the fireplace; and the parlor maid goes out and shuts the door when the visitor has passed in.
FRANKLYN [hurrying past Savvy to his guest with the false cordiality he has just been denouncing] Oh! Here you are. Delighted to see you. [He shakes Burge's hand, and introduces Savvy] My daughter.
SAVVY [not daring to approach] Very kind of you to come.
Joyce Burge stands fast and says nothing; but he screws up his cheeks into a smile at each introduction, and makes his eyes shine in a very winning manner. He is a well-fed man turned fifty, with broad forehead, and grey hair which, his neck being short, falls almost to his collar.
FRANKLYN. Mr Haslam, our rector.
Burge conveys an impression of shining like a church window; and Haslam seizes the nearest library chair on the hearth, and swings it round for Burge between the stool and Conrad. He then retires to the window seat at the other side of the room, and is joined by Savvy. They sit there, side by side, hunched up with their elbows on their knees and their chins on their hands, providing Burge with a sort of Stranger's Gallery during the ensuing sitting.
FRANKLYN. I forget whether you know my brother Conrad. He is a biologist.