ROBERT. [_Does so._] Thanks. [_He drinks and goes on as before._] Then you yourself, the way you loll on that lounge: then your boy’s voice and also—Bertha herself. Do you allow me to call her that, Richard? I mean as an old friend of both of you. RICHARD. O why not? ROBERT. [_With animation._] You have that fierce indignation which lacerated the heart of Swift. You have fallen from a higher world, Richard, and you are filled with fierce indignation, when you find that life is cowardly and ignoble. While I... shall I tell you? RICHARD. By all means. ROBERT. [_Archly._] I have come up from a lower world and I am filled with astonishment when I find that people have any redeeming virtue at all. RICHARD. [_Sits up suddenly and leans his elbows on the table._] You are my friend, then? ROBERT. [_Gravely._] I fought for you all the time you were away. I fought to bring you back. I fought to keep your place for you here. I will fight for you still because I have faith in you, the faith of a disciple in his master. I cannot say more than that. It may seem strange to you... Give me a match. RICHARD. [_Lights and offers him a match._] There is a faith still stranger than the faith of the disciple in his master. ROBERT. And that is? RICHARD. The faith of a master in the disciple who will betray him. ROBERT. The church lost a theologian in you, Richard. But I think you look too deeply into life. [_He rises, pressing Richard’s arm slightly._] Be gay. Life is not worth it. RICHARD. [_Without rising._] Are you going? ROBERT. Must. [_He turns and says in a friendly tone._] Then it is all arranged. We meet tonight at the vicechancellor’s. I shall look in at about ten. So you can have an hour or so to yourselves first. You will wait till I come? RICHARD. Good. ROBERT. One more match and I am happy. [_Richard strikes another match, hands it to him and rises also. Archie comes in by the door on the left, followed by Beatrice._] ROBERT. Congratulate me, Beatty. I have won over Richard. ARCHIE. [_Crossing to the door on the right, calls._] Mamma, Miss Justice is going. BEATRICE. On what are you to be congratulated? ROBERT. On a victory, of course. [_Laying his hand lightly on Richard’s shoulder._] The descendant of Archibald Hamilton Rowan has come home. RICHARD. I am not a descendant of Hamilton Rowan. ROBERT. What matter? [_Bertha comes in from the right with a bowl of roses._] BEATRICE. Has Mr Rowan...? ROBERT. [_Turning towards Bertha._] Richard is coming tonight to the vicechancellor’s dinner. The fatted calf will be eaten: roast, I hope. And next session will see the descendant of a namesake of etcetera, etcetera in a chair of the university. [_He offers his hand._] Good afternoon, Richard. We shall meet tonight. RICHARD. [_Touches his hand._] At Philippi. BEATRICE. [_Shakes hands also._] Accept my best wishes, Mr Rowan. RICHARD. Thanks. But do not believe him.