SIMON. If I had thought it was Mrs. Colinton I would have offered her a lift. (For a moment he gleams boyishly like the young husband of other days.) Mother, I have news; I have got the Bellerophon, honest Injun!
MRS. MORLAND. The very ship you wanted.
SIMON. Rather.
MR. MORLAND. Bravo, Simon.
SIMON. It is like realising the ambition of one’s life. I’m one of the lucky folk, I admit.
(He says this, and neither of them notices it as a strange remark.)
MR. MORLAND (twinkling). Beastly life, a sailor’s.
SIMON (cordially). Beastly. I have loathed it ever since I slept in the old Britannia, with my feet out at the port-hole to give them air. We all slept that way; must have been a pretty sight from the water. Oh, a beast of a life, but I wouldn’t exchange it for any other in the world. (Lowering.) And if this war does come——
MR. MORLAND (characteristically). It won’t, I’m sure.
SIMON. I dare say not. But they say—however.