RAMSDEN. When you say Ann, you mean, I presume, Miss Whitefield.
TANNER. I mean our Ann, your Ann, Tavy's Ann, and now, Heaven help me, my Ann!
OCTAVIUS. [rising, very pale] What do you mean?
TANNER. Mean! [He holds up the will]. Do you know who is appointed Ann's guardian by this will?
RAMSDEN. [coolly] I believe I am.
TANNER. You! You and I, man. I! I!! I!!! Both of us! [He flings the will down on the writing table].
RAMSDEN. You! Impossible.
TANNER. It's only too hideously true. [He throws himself into Octavius's chair]. Ramsden: get me out of it somehow. You don't know Ann as well as I do. She'll commit every crime a respectable woman can; and she'll justify every one of them by saying that it was the wish of her guardians. She'll put everything on us; and we shall have no more control over her than a couple of mice over a cat.
OCTAVIUS. Jack: I wish you wouldn't talk like that about Ann.
TANNER. This chap's in love with her: that's another complication. Well, she'll either jilt him and say I didn't approve of him, or marry him and say you ordered her to. I tell you, this is the most staggering blow that has ever fallen on a man of my age and temperament.