SYDNEY. [_Flaring effectively_] Well, for one thing you shouldn’t have told your father we were engaged. What girl, do you suppose, would stand it? You ask Alice. KIT. [_Flaring in reality_] If you’re not jolly careful I will. SYDNEY. [_Egging him on_] Good for you! KIT. [_Furious_] And if I do I’ll ask her more than that. SYDNEY. [_Clapping her hands_] I should go and do it now, if I were you. Strike while the iron’s hot. KIT. You’re mad. SYDNEY. [_With intense bitterness_] Yes, I suppose that’s the right word to fling at me. KIT. [_Between injury and distress_] I never meant that. You’re twisting the words in my mouth. You’re just picking a quarrel. SYDNEY. [_Lazily_] Well, what’s one to do with a little boy who won’t take his medicine? I tried to give it you in jam. KIT. [_Curt_] You want me to go? SYDNEY. Yes. KIT. For good? SYDNEY. Yes. KIT. Honest? SYDNEY. Yes. KIT. Right. [_He turns from her and goes out._] MARGARET. [_Looking up_] Was that Kit? Sydney, don’t let him go. SYDNEY. Kit! Ki-it! KIT. [_Returning joyfully_] Yes! Yes, old thing? SYDNEY. [_Impassively_] Mother wants you. MARGARET. Oh, Kit--would you take this for me? It’s for Mr. Meredith. I expect you’ll meet him, but if not, I want you to take it on. At once, Kit. KIT. Right, Mrs. Fairfield! MARGARET. [_Detaining him_] What’s the matter, Kit? KIT. [_His head up_] Nothing, Mrs. Fairfield. SYDNEY. Mother, Kit’s got to go. KIT. [_Resentfully_] It’s all right. I’m going. You needn’t worry. MARGARET. [_Humorously, washing her hands of them_] Oh, you two! _She turns away from them and stands, her arm on the mantel-piece, staring into the fire._ KIT _marches to the door_. SYDNEY. [_In spite of herself, softly_] Kit! KIT. [_Quickly_] Yes? SYDNEY. [_Recovering herself, impishly_] You’ll give her my love? KIT. You’re a beast, Sydney Fairfield! [_He goes out with a slam._] SYDNEY. [_In a changed voice_] You’ll give her _my_ love. [_Running to the door._] Kit! [_The door opens again, but it is_ GRAY MEREDITH _who comes in_.] GRAY. Sydney, what’s wrong with Kit? He went past me like a gust of wind. MARGARET. [_Coming up to them_] He didn’t give you my note? GRAY. He never looked at me. What note? MARGARET. I-- GRAY. Aren’t you ready? Why aren’t you dressed? MARGARET. I-- GRAY. You must be quick, dearest. MARGARET. I-- [_She sways where she stands._] GRAY _goes to her, and half clinging to him, half repulsing him, she sits down with her arm on the table and her head on her arm_. GRAY. Of course! Worn out! You should have come an hour ago. MARGARET. Yes. GRAY. Never mind that now. Sydney, get your mother’s wraps. MARGARET. [_Agitated_] Sydney--wait--no. GRAY. Warm things. It’s bitter, driving. SYDNEY. [_Uncertainly_] Gray, I think-- GRAY. Get them, please. _After a tiny pause and look at him_ SYDNEY _obeys. You see her go upstairs and disappear along the gallery._