Pilling (inspecting his very black hands). Not very, sir.
Vin. Go and wash them and come back for it.
Pilling. Yes, sir.
(Pilling vanishes to r. Vining crosses to fire.)
Mrs. M. I can't understand Sir Charles wanting to sell at all.
Mrs. V. No. What would Carrington be without the Polygon?
Walter (quietly). I'm not sure that it wouldn't be a good deal better off, Mrs. Vining.
(They all stare at him astonished.)
Vin. What an extraordinary thing to say. Why, we are Carrington.
Mrs. V. We've always lived in the Polygon. We've taken root, Carrington's gone on its way——