Mar. (_admiringly_). That's a good pose, Peter. The great, strong, self-willed man brought down to crying to his mammie. Peter (_in an agonised shriek_). Mother! Mrs. G. (_firmly_). I'm not going to interfere. I promised Margaret her own way. Peter. But---- Mrs. G. (_interrupting, dryly_). Besides, I think there may be something in it. [_Peter hides his face again with a deep "Oh!"_ O'Cal. (_putting his hand on Peter's shoulder_). Be a man, Peter. Peter (_looking up at him_). Yes, it's all very well for you to talk. You with your beastly robust health. I'm an invalid. Mar. I assure you, you're not looking half so feeble as you did. You're improving under treatment. Peter. Then I must thrive on torture. Mar. Something's doing you good. You're not the woebegone catastrophe you were. Peter (_rising_). I won't tolerate this. Mar. You prefer to be a catastrophe, in fact? Peter (_moving right_). I want to be left alone. I'm going to my bedroom. You can't follow me there. Mar. Oh, you'll not escape that way. I don't in the least mind invading your bedroom. A doctor has privileges. Peter. All right. I'll go out, then. Mother, where's my hat? Mar. Splendid. Fresh air will do you good. Peter. I won't go out. They'll mock me in the streets. Mar. Then you prefer my medicine? I'll go on dosing you. Peter (_sitting centre, behind table, covering face_). I'll close my eyes and stop my ears. Mar. (_taking her hat off_). The night is young. (_She puts her hat on the bookcase and her fur on it._) Peter (_turning and watching her_). Oh! So it's to be a trial of strength, is it? Mar. Just as you like. As I'm strong and you're weak, I ought to win. Peter. We'll see if I'm weak. Mar. Of course, I've only your word for it. [_Margaret takes chair from wall, right, and puts it before fire._ Peter. Weak as I am, I'm strong enough to tire you out. (_Folding his arms._) Mar. I don't go to work till nine in the morning. (_Sitting on her chair._) You don't mind my making myself comfortable for the night, Mrs. Garside? Mrs. G. I've told you I'm not interfering, Margaret. You can do as you like. Mar. Denis, go home. I want to be alone with Peter. Peter. Stay where you are, Denis. Don't leave me alone with her. O'Cal. Don't! But I will and sharp too, for it's wishing you a quick recovery I am, and the more you hate your medicine the better it is for you. Good night. [_Exit O'Callagan, l._ Mar. Now, Peter, I'm going to talk to you. Mrs. G. I'll take myself out of your way. (_Going r._) Peter. Mother! You too! Haven't I a friend in the world? Mrs. G. You wouldn't listen to me. It's her turn how. Call me if you want me, Margaret. [_Exit Mrs. Garside, r._ Peter (_sitting c., stopping his ears_). I shan't listen. Mar. (_sitting and making herself ostentatiously comfortable in the rocking-chair, poking fire_). Oh, take your time. I'm quite comfortable. (_She leans back humming "Home, Sweet Home"_) Peter (_unstopping his ears_). What?