.

COLONEL. [A little taken aback.] Ah! You know, she--she's in a
very delicate position, living by herself in London. [LEVER looks at
him ironically.] You [very nervously] see a good deal of her? If
it had n't been for Joy growing so fast, we shouldn't have had the
child down here. Her mother ought to have her with her. Eh! Don't
you think so?

LEVER. [Forcing a smile.] Mrs. Gwyn always seems to me to get on
all right.

COLONEL. [As though making a discovery.] You know, I've found that
when a woman's living alone and unprotected, the very least thing
will set a lot of hags and jackanapes talking. [Hotly.] The more
unprotected and helpless a woman is, the more they revel in it. If
there's anything I hate in this world, it's those wretched creatures
who babble about their neighbours' affairs.

LEVER. I agree with you.

COLONEL. One ought to be very careful not to give them--that is----
[checks himself confused; then hurrying on]--I suppose you and Joy
get on all right?

LEVER. [Coolly.] Pretty well, thanks. I'm not exactly in Joy's
line; have n't seen very much of her, in fact.

[Miss BEECH and JOY have been approaching from the house. But
seeing LEVER, JOY turns abruptly, hesitates a moment, and with
an angry gesture goes away.]

COLONEL [Unconscious.] Wonderfully affectionate little thing! Well,
she'll be going home to-morrow!

MISS BEECH. [Who has been gazing after JOY.] Talkin' business, poor
creatures?

LEVER. Oh, no! If you'll excuse me, I'll wash my hands before tea.

[He glances at the COLONEL poring over papers, and, shrugging
his shoulders, strolls away.]

MISS BEECH. [Sitting in the swing.] I see your horrid papers.

COLONEL. Be quiet, Peachey!

MISS BEECH. On a beautiful summer's day, too.

COLONEL. That'll do now.

MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] For every ounce you take out of a gold mine
you put two in.

COLONEL. Who told you that rubbish?

MISS BEECH. [With devilry.] You did!

COLONEL. This is n't an ordinary gold mine.

MISS BEECH. Oh! quite a special thing.

[COLONEL stares at her, but subsiding at hey impassivity, he
pores again over the papers.]

[Rosy has approached with a tea cloth.]

ROSE. If you please, sir, the Missis told me to lay the tea.

COLONEL. Go away! Ten fives fifty. Ten 5 16ths, Peachey?

MISS BEECH. I hate your nasty sums!

[ROSE goes away. The COLONEL Writes. MRS. H