Peter. Oh, I've not arrived yet. I'm ambitious.
Fred. I like your pluck. Give me a quiet life and a thousand a year paid quarterly by the Bank of England. Security's my mark.
Peter. I'm betting on a certainty when I put money on myself.
Fred. I'm such a thrifty soul. I never risk more than 10 per cent of my income on certainties. That reminds me. Beversham. I must fly. See you later. (Reaches door right.) About half an hour, Gladys.
[Peter goes out with him, is heard closing outer door, and returns immediately, closing door. Mrs. Gar-side yawns ostentatiously.
Glad. (more with an air of saying something than meaning anything). Strange that we should meet in the Strand by accident, Mr. Garside.
Peter (who has paid for the moment more attention to Mrs. Garside than to Gladys, speaking jerkily). You call it accident? I call it Fate. (Mrs. Garside executes another palpably diplomatic yawn.) You're tired, mother.
Mrs. G. Yes.
Peter. I'm sure Miss Mottram will excuse you.
Mrs. G. Then I think I'll go to my bed. I'm an early bird. Good night, Miss Mottram.