r piece of thread and puts it into her needle, looking placidly
and reflectively upward meanwhile.) Do you know, You are wonderfully
like your uncle.

BRASSBOUND. Damnation!

LADY CICELY. Eh?

BRASSBOUND. If I thought my veins contained a drop of his black blood,
I would drain them empty with my knife. I have no relations. I had a
mother: that was all.

LADY CICELY (unconvinced) I daresay you have your mother's complexion.
But didn't you notice Sir Howard's temper, his doggedness, his high
spirit: above all, his belief in ruling people by force, as you rule
your men; and in revenge and punishment, just as you want to revenge
your mother? Didn't you recognize yourself in that?

BRASSBOUND (startled). Myself!--in that!

LADY CECILY (returning to the tailoring question as if her last remark
were of no consequence whatever). Did this sleeve catch you at all under
the arm? Perhaps I had better make it a little easier for you.

BRASSBOUND (irritably). Let my coat alone. It will do very well as it
is. Put it down.

LADY CICILY. Oh, don't ask me to sit doing nothing. It bores me so.

BRASSBOUND. In Heaven's name then, do what you like! Only don't worry me
with it.

LADY CICELY. I'm so sorry. All the Hallams are irritable.

BRASSBOUND (penning up his fury with difficulty). As I have already
said, that remark has no application to me.

LADY CICELY (resuming her stitching). That's so funny! They all hate to
be told that they are like one another.

BRASSBOUND (with the beginnings of despair in his voice). Why did you
come here? My trap was laid for him, not for you. Do you know the danger
you are in?

LADY CICELY. There's always a danger of something or other. Do you think
it's worth bothering about?

BRASSBOUND (scolding her). Do I THINK! Do you think my coat's worth
mending?

LADY CICELY (prosaically). Oh yes: it's not so far gone as that.

BRASSBOUND. Have you any feeling? Or are you a fool?

LADY CICELY. I'm afraid I'm a dreadful fool. But I can't help it. I was
made so, I suppose.

BRASSBOUND. Perhaps you don't realize that your friend my good uncle
will be pretty fortunate if he is allowed to live out his life as a
slave with a set of chains on him?

LADY CICELY. Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. H--I mean Captain
Brassbound. Men are always thinking that they are going to do something
grandly wicked to their enemies; but when it comes to the point, really
bad men are just as rare as really good ones.