Mrs. G. (pacing about). Why doesn't he come? (Stopping short.) Where do people go to find out if there's been an accident? It's the police station, isn't it?
Mar. Oh, there's no need——
[Peter Garside bursts in through centre door and closes it behind him as he speaks. He is 23, cleanshaven, fair, sturdily built, with a large, loose mouth, strong jaw, and square face, dressed in a cheap tweed suit, wearing a red tie.
Peter (breathlessly). I've done it.
Mrs. G. (going to him; he puts his arm round her and pats her back, while she hides her face against his chest). My boy, my boy!
Peter. I've done it, mother. (Looking proudly at Margaret.) I'm an honours man of Midlandton University.
Mar. First class, Peter?
Peter. Yes. First Class. (Gently disengaging himself from Mrs. Garside.)
Mrs. G. (standing by his left, looking up at him). I knew, I knew it, Peter. I had the faith in you.
Peter (hanging his cap behind the door right, then coming back to centre. Margaret is standing on the hearthrug). Ah, little mother, what a help that faith has been to me. I couldn't disappoint a faith like yours. I had to win. Mother, Margaret, I've done it. Done it. Oh, I think I'm not quite sane to-night. This room seems small all of a sudden. I want to leap, to dance, and I know I'd break my neck against the ceiling if I did. Peter Garside, b.a. (Approaching Margaret.) Margaret, tell me I deserve it. You know what it means to me. The height of my ambition. The crown, the goal, my target reached at last. Margaret, isn't it a great thing that I've done?