Miss Fairfield. The Rector. I expect he’s heard about you.
Hilary. I can’t see him. I won’t see him. Let me go. I’ve met the Levites. Spare me the priest. [He breaks away from them and goes stumbling out at the other door.]
Sydney. [Following him anxiously] Father!
Dr. Alliot. [Preventing her] No, no, my child! I’ll look after him. [He goes out quickly.]
The Rector is an insignificant man, with an important manner and a plum in his mouth. He enters with Kit, who is flushed and perturbed.
Rector. Ah, good afternoon, Mrs. Fairfield—Miss Fairfield—
Margaret. [Mechanically. She is very tired and inattentive] A happy Christmas, Mr. Pumphrey!
Rector. Ah! Just so! Christmas afternoon. An unusual day to call, Mrs. Fairfield, and, I fear, an inconvenient hour—
Margaret. Not at all, Mr. Pumphrey.
Rector. I can give myself [he takes out his watch] till three fifteen, no longer. The children’s service is at three thirty.