Clifton [happily]. Dear me! Mr. Meriton too! This is quite a situation, as we say in the profession.
Richard [amused by him]. In the legal profession?
Clifton. In the theatrical profession. [Turning to Margaret.] I am a writer of plays, Mrs. Crawshaw. I am not giving away a professional secret when I tell you that most of the managers in London have thanked me for submitting my work to them.
Crawshaw [firmly]. I understood, Mr. Clifton, that you were the solicitor employed to wind up the affairs of the late Mr. Antony Clifton.
Clifton. Oh, certainly. Oh, there's no doubt about my being a solicitor. My clerk, a man of the utmost integrity, not to say probity, would give me a reference. I am in the books; I belong to the Law Society. But my heart turns elsewhere. Officially I have embraced the profession of a solicitor—[Frankly, to Mrs. Crawshaw.] But you know what these official embraces are.
Margaret. I'm afraid—[She turns to her husband for assistance.]
Clifton [to Richard]. Unofficially, Mr. Meriton, I am wedded to the Muses.
Viola. Dick, isn't he lovely?
Crawshaw. Quite so. But just for the moment, Mr. Clifton, I take it that we are concerned with legal business. Should I ever wish to produce a play, the case would be different.
Clifton. Admirably put. Pray regard me entirely as the solicitor for as long as you wish. [He puts his hat down on a chair with the papers in it, and taking off his gloves, goes on dreamily.] Mr. Denis Clifton was superb as a solicitor. In spite of an indifferent make-up, his manner of taking off his gloves and dropping them into his hat—[He does so.]