Fred. (looking—awkwardly). Er—yes—not very complimentary.
Glad, (curiously). What are they?
Fred. (returning paper to Peter). Tact never was my sister's strong point, Garside.
Peter (holding up the paper). Oh, I don't mind this in the least. It means my blows are getting home. (Reading the headings.) "The Demagogue again." "More Firebrand Oratory from the egregious Garside." (Putting paper on table.) Spreading themselves, aren't they?
Fred. Well, it's all right, so long as you don't mind.
Peter. Oh, they'll need a big vocabulary to express their feelings before I'm done with them. I haven't started yet.
Fred. Hope it'll keep fine for you. Afraid I must toddle, Garside. I've an appointment.
Peter (his face falling in deep disappointment). Appointment! Oh, I did hope you'd both stay a bit. In fact, I—I put off an engagement while I was at the telephone.
Fred, (looking at Gladys). Well—er—I might come back for my sister.
Peter (enthusiastically). Splendid! Have something before you go?