MR. MORLAND (blankly). You are not in love with Simon, are you?
MARY ROSE. Oh-h-h-h!
(She makes little runnings from the one parent to the other, carrying kisses for the wounds.)
Daddy, I am so awfully sorry that this has occurred. Mummy, what can we do? (She cries.)
MRS. MORLAND (soothing her). My own, my pet. But he is only a boy, Mary Rose, just a very nice boy.
MARY ROSE (awed). Mother, that is the wonderful, wonderful thing. He was just a boy—I quite understand that—he was a mere boy till to-day; and then, Daddy, he suddenly changed; all at once he became a man. It was while he was—telling me. You will scarcely know him now, Mother.
MRS. MORLAND. Darling, he breakfasted with us; I think I shall know him still.
MARY ROSE. He is quite different from breakfast-time. He doesn’t laugh any more, he would never think of capsizing the punt intentionally now, he has grown so grave, so manly, so—so protective, he thinks of everything now, of freeholds and leaseholds, and gravel soil, and hot and cold, and the hire system.
(She cries again, but her eyes are sparkling through the rain.)
MR. MORLAND (with spirit). He has got as far as that, has he! Does he propose that this marriage should take place to-morrow?