Lucy. Coy.
Dor. That's it! Thanks, little woman—a bit coy. (comes to Pillenger)
Pil. Coy! (rises, comes C.) Well, the expression hardly seems to me to convey Lucy's habitual demeanour; but in any case she is of age. (to Lucy) You were twenty-one last week I think?
Lucy. Yes, I was.
Pil. Your small fortune is carefully tied up.
Dor. Quite right, sir, so it ought to be.
Pil. Captain Dorvaston (patting him on the shoulder) is in a firm financial position.
Dor. Pretty fair as things go.
Pil. Then why any further delay? Why not August? Nice seaside month. My own thoughts are turning towards Eastbourne.
Dor. I had an offer from a fellah I know to go halves in a shoot this August, (going to Lucy) but I wouldn't let that stand in the way, not for a moment.