on't care. He's my third cousin. Don't you
feel you couldn't, Adela?

LADY A. Couldn't--what?

MARGARET. Stand for De Levis against one of ourselves?

LADY A. That's very narrow, Meg.

MARGARET. Oh! I know lots of splendid Jews, and I rather liked little
Ferdy; but when it comes to the point--! They all stick together; why
shouldn't we? It's in the blood. Open your jugular, and see if you
haven't got it.

LADY A. My dear, my great grandmother was a Jewess. I'm very proud of
her.

MARGARET. Inoculated. [Stretching herself] Prejudices, Adela--or are
they loyalties--I don't know--cris-cross--we all cut each other's throats
from the best of motives.

LADY A. Oh! I shall remember that. Delightful! [Holding up a finger]
You got it from Bergson, Meg. Isn't he wonderful?

MARGARET. Yes; have you ever read him?

LADY A. Well--No. [Looking at the bedroom door] That poor child! I
quite agree. I shall tell every body it's ridiculous. You don't really
think Ronald Dancy--?

MARGARET. I don't know, Adela. There are people who simply can't live
without danger. I'm rather like that myself. They're all right when
they're getting the D.S.O. or shooting man-eaters; but if there's no
excitement going, they'll make it--out of sheer craving. I've seen Ronny
Dancy do the maddest things for no mortal reason except the risk. He's
had a past, you know.

LADY A. Oh! Do tell!

MARGARET. He did splendidly in the war, of course, because it suited
him; but--just before--don't you remember--a very queer bit of riding?

LADY A. No.

MARGARET. Most dare-devil thing--but not quite. You must remember--
it was awfully talked about. And then, of course, right up to his
marriage--[She lights a cigarette.]

LADY A. Meg, you're very tantalising!

MARGARET. A foreign-looking girl--most plummy. Oh! Ronny's got charm
--this Mabel child doesn't know in the least what she's got hold of!

LADY A. But they're so fond of each other!

MARGARET. That's the mistake. The General isn't mentioning the coat, is
he?

LADY A. Oh, no! It was only to Charles.

MABEL returns.

MARGARET. Did you get him?

MABEL. No; he's not at Tattersall's, nor at the Club.

LADY ADELA rises and greets her with an air which suggests
bereavement.

LADY A. Nobody's going to believe this, my dear.

MABEL. [Looking straight at her] Nobody who does need come here, or
trouble to speak to us again.