St. Herbert. I understand. Woman has suddenly started hitting man on the nose. Her excuse being that she really couldn’t keep her hands off him any longer.
Jawbones. (He has pinned the poster to the wall.) They begun it. To ’ear them talk, you’d think as man had never done anything right.
Geoffrey. He’s quite right. Their posters are on every hoarding: “Who’s made all the Muddles? Man!” “Men’s Promises! Why, it’s all Froth!” “Woman this Time!” I suppose it will have to go.
Jawbones. (Hopefully.) Up, sir?
Geoffrey. No, Jawbones. Into the dust-heap with the rest.
(Jawbones is disgusted. Ginger is triumphant.)
Geoffrey. I must talk to Sigsby. He’s taking the whole thing too seriously. It will be some time before we reach that stage. (To Jawbones.) Ask Mrs. Chinn to bring me a cup of tea.
(Jawbones goes out.)
(He seats himself at table and takes up some correspondence. To Ginger.) Are you waiting for any one?
Ginger. A letter from her ladyship. (She picks up from the desk and hands him the letter Sigsby had thrown there.) Her ladyship thought you ought to be consulted.