Ste. Come to facts.
Walter. Facts? Shall I give you names? (Strolls round back to fireplace.) I regret the absence of Mr. Alcorn and Miss Verity, but—well, gentlemen, you're found out.
Ste. (pause). And if we are? (Rises.)
Smiths, (to Stephen). And if we are, some one's blabbed.
Bam. (to Stephen). And you're the only one who pays afternoon calls in the Polygon.
Ste. (bending over table, beneath his breath). Fools! (Aloud.) Do you think I foul my own nest?
Bam. Then if it isn't you, who is it? Tell me that.
(Stephen looks first at Bamford, then Smithson, then suddenly moves to door l. and calls.)
Ste. Lucy! Lucy! Come here! (Returns above table.)
Bam. That's the worst of having a woman in the thing. They will talk.