Lady M. Gladys, if Freddie's going to be sympathetic to this young person, you and I had better retire. Conversations between young men and persons of her class are not carried on in the presence of ladies.
[Lady M. and Gladys go out, Freddie opening door. Margaret is following. He closes the door.
Fred. One moment, Miss Shaweross.
Mar. Let me go, please.
Fred. Yes. I say. I know I'm being assinine. I am rather an ass. But I'm a genial sort of ass, and if there's one thing I ean't stand it's one woman being beastly to another. Women are the limit. (Rapidly, as Margaret shows impatience.) What I mean is, can I do anything for you?
Mar. (curtly). No, thank you, Mr. Mottram. (Trying to pass him.)
Fred, (with a stronger note of seriousness). No, you're not going till I let you. The mater's made it hard enough. That's the worst of women. They won't be sportsmen. Mind you, I'm not blaming her. Swop positions and you'd do it yourself. But you've lost your job. That's an idiotic thing to do now. As if any footling politics were worth a tinker's cuss!
Mar. Why are you keeping me here?
Fred. I'm telling you, aren't I?
Mar. It wasn't very lucid.