CATHERINE. Father, have you told him?
LORD LOAM (heavily). She thinks I have, but I couldn’t. She’s sure to find out to-night.
(Unconsciously he leans on the island concertina, which he has perhaps been lately showing to an interviewer as something he made for TWEENY. It squeaks, and they all jump.)
CATHERINE. It’s like a bird of ill-omen.
LORD LOAM (vindictively). I must have it taken away; it has done that twice.
(LADY MARY comes in. She is in evening dress. Undoubtedly she meant to sail in, but she forgets, and despite her garments it is a manly entrance. She is properly ashamed of herself. She tries again, and has an encouraging success. She indicates to her sisters that she wishes to be alone with papa.)
AGATHA. All right, but we know what it’s about. Come along, Kit.
(They go. LADY MARY thoughtlessly sits like a boy, and again corrects herself. She addresses her father, but he is in a brown study, and she seeks to draw his attention by whistling. This troubles them both.)
LADY MARY. How horrid of me!
LORD LOAM (depressed). If you would try to remember—