SYLVIA. Grace: go after her. Don't let her get beforehand with Paramore. She'll tell him the most heartbreaking stories about how she's been treated, and get him round completely.
CRAVEN (floundering). Sylvia! Is that the way to speak of your sister, miss? (Grace squeezes Sylvia's hand to console her, and sits down calmly. Sylvia posts herself behind Grace's chair, leaning over the back to watch the ensuing colloquy between the three men.) I assure you, Mrs. Tranfield, Dr. Paramore has just invited us all to take afternoon tea with him; and if my daughter has gone to his house, she is simply taking advantage of his invitation to extricate herself from a very embarrassing scene here. We're all going there. Come, Sylvia. (He turns to go, followed by Cuthbertson.)
CHARTERIS (in consternation). Stop! (He gets between Craven and Cuthbertson.) What hurry is there? Can't you give the man time?
CRAVEN. Time! What for?
CHARTERIS (talking foolishly in his agitation). Well, to get a little rest, you know—a busy professional man like that! He's not had a moment to himself all day.
CRAVEN. But Julia's with him.
CHARTERIS. Well, no matter: she's only one person. And she ought to have an opportunity of laying her case before him. As a member of the committee, I think that's only just. Be reasonable, Craven: give him half an hour.
CUTHBERTSON (sternly). What do you mean by this, Charteris?
CHARTERIS. Nothing, I assure you. Only common consideration for poor Paramore.
CUTHBERTSON. You've some motive. Craven: I strongly advise that we go at once. (He grasps the door handle.)