Blackborough. I tell you Rumour's electric.
Horsham has turned to Farrant with a sweet smile and with the air of a man about to be relieved of all responsibility.
Horsham. What does she say?
Farrant. [As one speaks of a nice woman.] She was horrified.
Horsham. Of course. [Once more he finds refuge and comfort on the hearthrug, to say, after a moment, with fine resignation.] I suppose I must let him go.
Cantelupe. [On his feet again.] Cyril!
Horsham. Yes, Charles?
With this query he turns an accusing eye on Cantelupe, who is silenced.
Blackborough. Have you made up your mind to that?
Farrant. [In great distress.] You're wrong, Horsham. [Then in greater.] That is ... I think you're wrong.