Kit. [He is very much in earnest and he addresses himself solely to Margaret] I want you to know that it is nothing to do with me, Mrs. Fairfield. I don’t agree with my father. [Confidentially] You wouldn’t think it but I never do.
Rector. Christopher?
Kit. [Ignoring him] And it was only coming up the drive that he sprung on me why he wanted to see you, or I wouldn’t have come—
Margaret. [Liking him] I think Sydney would have been sorry, Kit.
Kit. [With a touch of his father’s manner] Yes, well, Sydney and I have talked it over—and I know I’m going into the church myself—but I think he’s all wrong, Mrs. Fairfield. [Unconscious of plagiarism] I’m not nineteenth century. [But Sydney giggles.]
Miss Fairfield. Rector, what’s the matter with the young man?
Kit. [Forging ahead] You see, I’m pretty keen about Sydney, and so, naturally, I’m pretty keen about you, Mrs. Fairfield.
Rector. Miss Fairfield, I’m without words.
Kit. [Burdened]—and I just wanted to tell you that I can’t tell you what I think of my father over this business. It makes me wild.
Sydney. Kit, you’d better shut up.