Phil. (springing up) It’s false! it must be false!
Sir P. (rises) I have his word for it, and it can be proved. He left her penniless; and left his child to struggle with the world as best they could—and nobly they did it. Yes, sir, it is too true. The father you have loved and honoured was——
Phil. (extending his arms, as if to stop Sir Peter) My father! (Sir Peter stands for a moment, nonplussed)
Sir P. Was your father—just so. (turns off. Sir Peter picks up certificate from table and goes to R.C. down stage, folding papers which he returns to his pocket, Philip leans on mantel-piece—aside, looking at Philip) Takes it very well.
Phil. (goes to L.C., helping himself by table) I want to ask you one question. Dare I? (they stand looking at one another for an instant)
Sir P. You mean, your mother.
Phil. Yes.
Sir P. She knew nothing of this.
Phil. Thank heaven for that—thank heaven! (falls heavily into sofa, and sobs upon the table)
Re-enter Beatrice, followed by Kate, in travelling dress, R.U.D. Sir Peter down R. Philip sits up.