JACK. [Staring as though at half-formed visions.] I just get a— and then—it 's gone——
MRS. BARTHWICK. Oh, Jack! do you mean to say you were so tipsy you can't even remember——
JACK. Look here, Mother! Of course I remember I came—I must have come——
BARTHWICK. [Unguardedly, and walking up and down.] Tcha!—and that infernal purse! Good Heavens! It'll get into the papers. Who on earth could have foreseen a thing like this? Better to have lost a dozen cigarette-boxes, and said nothing about it. [To his wife.] It's all your doing. I told you so from the first. I wish to goodness Roper would come!
MRS. BARTHWICK. [Sharply.] I don't know what you're talking about,
John.
BARTHWICK. [Turning on her.] No, you—you—you don't know anything! [Sharply.] Where the devil is Roper? If he can see a way out of this he's a better man than I take him for. I defy any one to see a way out of it. I can't.
JACK. Look here, don't excite Dad—I can simply say I was too beastly tired, and don't remember anything except that I came in and [in a dying voice] went to bed the same as usual.
BARTHWICK. Went to bed? Who knows where you went—I 've lost all confidence. For all I know you slept on the floor.
JACK. [Indignantly.] I did n't, I slept on the——
BARTHWICK. [Sitting on the sofa.] Who cares where you slept; what does it matter if he mentions the—the—a perfect disgrace?