Mrs. Dermott. Nonsense, Evangeline. How do you suppose he could get backwards and forwards to America and send me large cheques and things?
Joyce. He wins a little from time to time by horse-racing.
Mrs. Dermott. Rubbish. No one can ever win at horse-racing. I never did. The bookies and jockeys and people don't let you.
Evangeline. Mother dear, how can you be so obstinate. I tell you he told us all about it in here yesterday afternoon—gave us his solemn word——
Mrs. Dermott. But only in fun, darling, only in fun—he's obviously a very rich man.
Oliver. Hah!
Mrs. Dermott. By the by, I wish one of you would just go into the garden and find him. The mushrooms will be ruined.
Sylvia. He isn't in the garden at all, mother, he's gone to the Green Hart.
(All look surprised.)
Mrs. Dermott. What do you mean, Sylvia? Why has he gone to the Green Hart?