sonally I'm delighted. I always distrusted
her, and this proves what I've said all along. But that doesn't make
Bobbie any better tempered about it.

DANIEL (L.C.). Poor old Bobbie, I bet he hates me.

SYLVIA. If he does he's a fool.

DANIEL. After all you can't blame him, it's only natural.

SYLVIA. He ought to be jolly grateful to you for being the means of
showing her up.

DANIEL. Perhaps--but he won't be. I know what it feels like; we all go
through it sometime or another. I'd love to wring that girl's neck
though.

SYLVIA. You like Bobbie best of us all, don't you?

DANIEL. With the exception of you--yes. I think it's because he's the
most like me. He is, you know. If he'd lived my life he'd have done
exactly the same things.

SYLVIA. I wonder. (_Sits_ L. _of Chesterfield._)

DANIEL (_smiling_). I know. (_He sits on chair, head of table._) He's
got just the same regard for the truth, the same sublime contempt of the
world, and the same amount of bombast and good opinion of himself that I
started with, I only hope he'll make better use of his chances, and
carve out a better career for himself.

SYLVIA. If he does, he'll owe it all to you--first for rousing him up
and making him work, and secondly for getting rid of Faith for him. Had
he married her, she'd have been a millstone round his neck. He doesn't
realize it now, but yesterday was one of the luckiest days of his life.

DANIEL. D'you really think so?

SYLVIA. I'm sure of it.

DANIEL. That's simply splendid. You've bucked me up tremendously. I
shan't mind the _Green Hart_ nearly so much now. (_Rising._)

SYLVIA (_putting him back on seat_). Uncle, you're not to go to the
_Green Hart_ at all, I won't have it.

DANIEL. I must. When they all sit round looking reproachfully at me, it
makes me feel as if I could sink under the table.

SYLVIA (_patting him and kneeling by him_). But they won't--they'll have
got over it.

DANIEL. They're all much too young to get over being made fools of as
quickly as that.

SYLVIA. But, uncle----

DANIEL. It's no use--I'm firm. I won't come back until they want me. As
a matter of fact I realise I've been very foolish. I shouldn't have let
things go so far. Naturally they were terribly disappointed at my
wanting to live till eighty-two or eighty-three, and not having any
money to leave them.

SYLVIA. They're not really disappointed so much as outraged. They feel
you've been laughing up your sleeve at them, as