Glad. You shouldn't go into bars.
Fred. And you shouldn't hang about street corners with a set of Socialists. Serve you right if you'd got your pocket picked. I'd rather be an open drinker than a secret revolutionist any day.
[Enter Lady Mottram. She is white-haired and authoritative in manner, dressed in a high evening gown, too freely jewelled. Freddie rises.
Fred. Hullo, mater. Any luck?
Lady M. If you mean by that expression has Mr. Garside arrived, he has not. (Crosses to Chesterfield.)
Fred. (looking at watch). Well, he may be an upright youth, but punctuality isn't amongst his virtues.
Lady M. (standing by Chesterfield). It's just as well. I have a disagreeable duty to perform. (Sitting, very dignified.)
Fred, (lightly). Hope it'll keep fine for you.
Lady M. Ring the bell, Freddie. (Freddie crosses to fireplace and rings.) Thank you.
Fred. By Jove, Gladys, someone's going to catch it. Mark that awe-inspiring frown. I'm getting frit.