MR. BARLOW. No, my dear—not over-tired. Excuse me if I have burdened you with all this. I relieves me to speak of it.
ANABEL. I realise HOW terrible it is, Mr. Barlow—and how helpless one is.
MR. BARLOW. Thank you, my dear, for your sympathy.
OLIVER. If the people for one minute pulled themselves up and conquered their mania for money and machine excitement, the whole thing would be solved.—Would you like me to find Winnie and tell her to say good night to you?
MR. BARLOW. If you would be so kind. (Exit OLIVER.) Can't you find a sweet that you would like, my dear? Won't you take a little cherry brandy?
(Enter BUTLER.)
ANABEL. Thank you.
WILLIAM. You will go up, sir?
MR. BARLOW. Yes, William.
WILLIAM. You are tired to-night, sir.