LORD LOAM: (strongly). My orders, Agatha.
LADY MARY. Now, father, please.
LORD LOAM (striking an attitude). Before I give you any further orders, Crichton—
CRICHTON. Yes, my lord.
LORD LOAM. (delighted) Pooh! It’s all right.
LADY MARY. No. Please go on.
LORD LOAM. Well, well. This question of the leadership; what do you think now, Crichton?
CRICHTON. My lord, I feel it is a matter with which I have nothing to do.
LORD LOAM. Excellent. Ha, Mary? That settles it, I think.
LADY MARY. It seems to, but—I’m not sure.