GUSS. Ah, the longer you take, the better I shall like it. I shall enjoy coming, I assure you.
DEB. (Getting more and more cross, comes r.c.) Well you know I really don’t think you will; and really, Mr. Gussett—(turns r.a little.)
GUSS. (Interrupting.) Ah, I know better. No, I quite insist upon coming.
DEB. (With calm, suppressed temper.) Ah, all right, Mr. Gussett, you shall. (Crossing l. meets Mrs. R. just entering l.) Aunt, I want you. (Turning her round again.)
MRS. R. (l.) Why, whatever’s the—
DEB. I’ll tell you, come along.
(Exeunt Mrs. R. and Deb. l.)
GUSS. (r. turns and arranges his moustache in glass over chimney). Might do worse, Gussy, my boy. (Turns round again.) She’s not a bad little thing, lick her into shape a bit.
(Enter Luke, upper l.)
LUKE. (Crossing to table and taking up his hat.) Coming?