(Voices outside. Enter fussily, talking and gesticulating, St. John Greatorex, followed by Miss Levering and Farnborough. Greatorex is sixty, wealthy, a county magnate, and Liberal M.P. He is square, thick-set, square-bearded. His shining bald pate has two strands of coal-black hair trained across his crown from left ear to right and securely pasted there. He has small, twinkling eyes and a reputation for telling good stories after dinner when ladies have left the room. He is carrying a little book for Miss Levering. She (parasol over shoulder), an attractive, essentially feminine, and rather "smart" woman of thirty-two, with a somewhat foreign grace; the kind of whom men and women alike say, "What's her story? Why doesn't she marry?")
Greatorex. I protest! Good Lord! what are the women of this country coming to? I protest against Miss Levering being carried off to discuss anything so revolting. Bless my soul! what can a woman like you know about it?
Miss Levering (smiling). Little enough. Good morning.
Great. (relieved). I should think so indeed!
Lord J. (aside). You aren't serious about going——
Great. (waggishly breaking in). We were so happy out there in the summer-house, weren't we?
Miss L. Ideally.
Great. And to be haled out to talk about Public Sanitation forsooth!
(Hurries after Miss Levering as she advances to speak to the Freddys, &c.)