JULIA (rising). That woman again!
SYLVIA. Another row! Go it, Julia!
CRAVEN. Hold your tongue, Sylvia. (He turns commandingly to Julia.) Now look here, Julia.
CHARTERIS. Hallo! A revolt of the fathers!
CRAVEN. Silence, Charteris. (To Julia, unanswerably.) The test of a man or woman's breeding is how they behave in a quarrel. Anybody can behave well when things are going smoothly. Now you said to-day, at that iniquitous club, that you were not a womanly woman. Very well: I don't mind. But if you are not going to behave like a lady when Mrs. Tranfield comes into this room, you've got to behave like a gentleman; or fond as I am of you, I'll cut you dead exactly as I would if you were my son.
PARAMORE (remonstrating). Colonel Craven—
CRAVEN (cutting him short). Don't be a fool, Paramore.
JULIA (tearfully excusing herself). I'm sure, Daddy—
CRAVEN. Stop snivelling. I'm not speaking as your Daddy now: I'm speaking as your commanding officer.
SYLVIA. Good old Victoria Cross! (Craven turns sharply on her; and she darts away behind Charteris, and presently seats herself on the couch, so that she and Charteris are shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite ways. Cuthbertson arrives with Grace, who remains near the door whilst her father joins the others.)