(They look at each other uneasily.)
LORD LOAM (warningly). Crichton, I don’t like this.
CRICHTON (harassed). The more I think of it, your lordship, the more uneasy I become myself. When I heard, my lord, that you had left that hairpin behind—(He is pained.)
LORD LOAM (feebly). One hairpin among so many would only have caused dissension.
CRICHTON (very sorry to have to contradict him). Not so, my lord. From that hairpin we could have made a needle; with that needle we could, out of skins, have sewn trousers of which your lordship is in need; indeed, we are all in need of them.
LADY MARY (suddenly self-conscious). All?
CRICHTON. On an island, my lady.
LADY MARY. Father.
CRICHTON (really more distressed by the prospect than she). My lady, if nature does not think them necessary, you may be sure she will not ask you to wear them. (Shaking his head.) But among all this undergrowth—
LADY MARY. Now you see this man in his true colours.