BERTLEY. But, my dear WELLWYN, that is stealing.
WELLWYN. We all have our discrepancies, Vicar.
ANN. Daddy! Discrepancies!
WELLWYN. Well, Ann, my theory is that as regards solids Timson's an Individualist, but as regards liquids he's a Socialist... or 'vice versa', according to taste.
BERTLEY. No, no, we mustn't joke about it. [Gravely.] I do think he should be spoken to.
WELLWYN. Yes, but not by me.
BERTLEY. Surely you're the proper person.
WELLWYN. [Shaking his head.] It was my rum, Vicar. Look so personal.
[There sound a number of little tat-tat knocks.]
WELLWYN. Isn't that the Professor's knock?