Fred. Oh? And what about you?
Glad. I'll stay.
Fred. Hang it, you can't do that.
Glad. No. You'd rather I wasted another evening sitting with the frumps in the hotel drawing-room while you discuss odds with your sporting friend in the bar till it's too late to go anywhere. I'm having no more nights in a refrigerator, thank you.
Fred. It's not the thing to leave you here. You'll only be in Garside's way. He'll be going to the House.
Glad. Then he'll leave me at the hotel as he goes.
Fred. You know the mater only let you loose in London because I promised to look after you. (Good-naturedly perplexed.) You're a ghastly responsibility. Why on earth do you want to stay with Garside?
Glad. Garside's amusing and the hotel isn't.
Fred. I simply must sec Beversham. It means money to me.
Glad. Don't let me stand in your way.