BERTLEY. [Faintly surprised.] From what I hear he's not really a bad youth. Afraid he bets on horses. The great thing, WELLWYN, with those poor fellows is to put your finger on the weak spot.
ANN. [To herself-gloomily.] That's not difficult. What would you do, Canon Bertley, with a man who's been drinking father's rum?
BERTLEY. Remove the temptation, of course.
WELLWYN. He's done that.
BERTLEY. Ah! Then—[WELLWYN and ANN hang on his words] then I should—er—
ANN. [Abruptly.] Remove him.
BERTLEY. Before I say that, Ann, I must certainly see the individual.
WELLWYN. [Pointing to the window.] There he is!
[In the failing light TIMSON'S face is indeed to be seen pressed against the window pane.]
ANN. Daddy, I do wish you'd have thick glass put in. It's so disgusting to be spied at! [WELLWYN going quickly to the door, has opened it.] What do you want? [TIMSON enters with dignity. He is fuddled.]