MARCHBANKS (gathering a whimsically affectionate courage from the scolding). If I am to be scolded like this, I must make a boy's excuse. He began it. And he's bigger than I am. CANDIDA (losing confidence a little as her concern for Morell's dignity takes the alarm). That can't be true. (To Morell.) You didn't begin it, James, did you? MORELL (contemptuously). No. MARCHBANKS (indignant). Oh! MORELL (to Eugene). YOU began it--this morning. (Candida, instantly connecting this with his mysterious allusion in the afternoon to something told him by Eugene in the morning, looks quickly at him, wrestling with the enigma. Morell proceeds with the emphasis of offended superiority.) But your other point is true. I am certainly the bigger of the two, and, I hope, the stronger, Candida. So you had better leave the matter in my hands. CANDIDA (again soothing him). Yes, dear; but--(Troubled.) I don't understand about this morning. MORELL (gently snubbing her). You need not understand, my dear. CANDIDA. But, James, I--(The street bell rings.) Oh, bother! Here they all come. (She goes out to let them in.) MARCHBANKS (running to Morell ). Oh, Morell, isn't it dreadful? She's angry with us: she hates me. What shall I do? MORELL (with quaint desperation, clutching himself by the hair). Eugene: my head is spinning round. I shall begin to laugh presently. (He walks up and down the middle of the room.) MARCHBANKS (following him anxiously). No, no: she'll think I've thrown you into hysterics. Don't laugh. (Boisterous voices and laughter are heard approaching. Lexy Mill, his eyes sparkling, and his bearing denoting unwonted elevation of spirit, enters with Burgess, who is greasy and self-complacent, but has all his wits about him. Miss Garnett, with her smartest hat and jacket on, follows them; but though her eyes are brighter than before, she is evidently a prey to misgiving. She places herself with her back to her typewriting table, with one hand on it to rest herself, passes the other across her forehead as if she were a little tired and giddy. Marchbanks relapses into shyness and edges away into the corner near the window, where Morell's books are.) MILL (exhilaratedly). Morell: I MUST congratulate you. (Grasping his hand.) What a noble, splendid, inspired address you gave us! You surpassed yourself. BURGESS. So you did, James. It fair kep' me awake to the last word. Didn't it, Miss Garnett? PROSERPINE (worriedly). Oh, I wasn't minding you: I was trying to make notes. (She takes out her note-book, and looks at her stenography, which nearly makes her cry.) MORELL. Did I go too fast, Pross? PROSERPINE. Much too fast. You know I can't do more than a hundred words a minute. (She relieves her feelings by throwing her note-book angrily beside her machine, ready for use next morning.) MORELL (soothingly). Oh, well, well, never mind, never mind, never mind. Have you all had supper?