o'connell. Have you not? [With grim ambiguity.] Then I am sorry for you, Mr. Trebell. [Having said all he had to say, he notices horsham.] Yes, Lord Horsham, by all means . .
Then horsham opens the library door and sees him safely through. He passes trebell without any salutation, nor does trebell turn after him; but when horsham also is in the library and the door is closed, comments viciously.
trebell. The man's a sentimentalist . . like all men who live alone or shut away. [Then surveying his three glum companions, bursts out.] Well . . ? We can stop thinking of this dead woman, can't we? It's a waste of time.
farrant. Trebell, what did you want to come here for?
trebell. Because you thought I wouldn't. I knew you'd be sitting round, incompetent with distress, calculating to a nicety the force of a scandal. . .
blackborough. [With the firmest of touches.] Horsham has called some of us here to discuss the situation. I am considering my opinion.
trebell. You are not, Blackborough. You haven't recovered yet from the shock of your manly feelings. Oh, cheer up. You know we're an adulterous and sterile generation. Why should you cry out at a proof now and then of what's always in the hearts of most of us?
farrant. [Plaintively.] Now, for God's sake, Trebell . . O'Connell has been going on like that.
trebell. Well then . . think of what matters.
blackborough. Of you and your reputation in fact.