Poor Lady Kelsey! To-morrow half London will be saying that you and Bobby had a stand-up fight in her drawing-room.
Alec.
[Furiously.] The damned cubs!
Dick.
The position is growing confoundedly awkward!
Alec.
They lick my boots till I loathe them, and then they turn against me like a pack of curs. Oh, I despise them—these silly boys who stay at home wallowing in their ease while men work. Thank God, I've done with them all now. They think one can fight one's way through Africa as easily as one walks down Piccadilly. They think one goes through hardships and dangers, illness and starvation, to be the lion of a dinner-party in Mayfair.
Dick.
My dear Alec, keep calm.
Alec.