Gwen: Drawing-room—going to read.
[She goes out.
Mrs. Freeman (when the door has closed safely): I’ve got something on my mind, too.
Mr. Freeman: What about?
Mrs. Freeman: About him.
Mr. Freeman: What?
[In answer Mrs. Freeman goes to a writing-desk. He continues his own train of thought.
He’s not worth a damn in the office. He could be. (His indignation increases.) He walks in an hour late, he walks out an hour early, and he never walks back at all.... No “whys,” no “wherefores” ... when I think of all that I’ve done for that boy.... (He becomes conscious that the hand that isn’t holding a cigar is holding a letter) ... What’s this?
Mrs. Freeman: Smell it.
Mr. Freeman: Filthy ... what’s wrong with it? ... only scent, isn’t it?