Margaret [to Crawshaw]. I think, perhaps, Viola and I—
Richard [making a move too]. We'll leave you to your business, Robert.
Clifton [holding up his hand]. Just one moment if I may. I have a letter for you, Mr. Meriton.
Richard [surprised]. For me?
Clifton. Yes. My clerk, a man of the utmost integrity—oh, but I said that before—he took it round to your rooms this morning, but found only painters and decorators there. [He is feeling in his pockets and now brings the letter out.] I brought it along, hoping that Mr. Crawshaw—but of course I never expected anything so delightful as this. [He hands over the letter with a bow.]
Richard. Thanks. [He puts it in his pocket.]
Clifton. Oh, but do read it now, won't you? [To Mrs. Crawshaw.] One so rarely has an opportunity of being present when one's own letters are read. I think the habit they have on the stage of reading letters aloud to each other is such a very delightful one. [Richard, with a smile and a shrug, has opened his letter while Clifton is talking.]
Richard. Good Lord!
Viola. Dick, what is it?
Richard [reading]. "199, Lincoln's Inn Fields. Dear Sir, I have the pleasure to inform you that under the will of the late Mr. Antony Clifton you are a beneficiary to the extent of £50,000."