(_Who has been looking jealously at CLARE and MICHAEL. He speaks defiantly with eyes on CLARE._) I say, Cousin Patricia.... LADY PATRICIA. Yes, Cousin Bill? (_CLARE looks at them._) BILL. If it wouldn’t bother you too much, I wonder if you’d care to take me to have a look at those thingumybob roses. It would be simply corking! LADY PATRICIA. I shall be charmed, Cousin Bill. We’ll settle the question of guelder-rose or pearl together. (_They move towards the ladder on the left._) CLARE. (_In a low voice to BILL as he passes her._) Worm! (_In a defiant voice to MICHAEL._) Mr. Cosway, you’ve never shown me the—the what’s-its-name.... MICHAEL. The spiral nebula in Andromeda? It’s scarcely favourable for a view of the nebula to-night. Shall we look at the mountains of the moon? CLARE. Thanks awfully. (_She and MICHAEL move to the central ladder._) LADY PATRICIA. (_To BILL as they descend on the left._) Do you believe in fairies, Cousin Bill? MICHAEL. (_To CLARE as they descend the central ladder._) I have often wondered how the night would look if we had nine moons like Jupiter. (_A pause. The DEAN looks disapprovingly after the disappearing BILL, MRS. O’FARREL through her lorgnette after CLARE._) MRS. O’FARREL. H’m.... DEAN. I beg your pardon?... You were saying?... MRS. O’FARREL. I didn’t say anything. I was thinking. DEAN. Ah, thinking—yes, thinking.... So was I.... By the way, Eileen, your—er—cherished project for marrying Clare to your son doesn’t appear to be materialising quite—er—satisfactorily. MRS. O’FARREL. No, it doesn’t. DEAN. Not quite as smoothly as we—as you hoped. MRS. O’FARREL. Give me a whisky-and-soda. DEAN. A whisky—— MRS. O’FARREL. And soda. (_The DEAN pours out a drop of whisky._) Go on.... (_The DEAN sets the syphon going._) Nearly full.... When!... And you had better take something as well—to fortify yourself against what I am going to say. DEAN. Ah.... A little soda-water. (_Helps himself._) So you are going to be unpleasant, my dear Eileen? MRS. O’FARREL. I am. Those two _had_ been quarrelling just now. DEAN. That was evident—even to me. MRS. O’FARREL. They had been quarrelling bitterly—and I can make a shrewd guess at the cause. DEAN. I also. MRS. O’FARREL. Indeed. Well, I think it’s high time to speak plainly. DEAN. I quite agree with you. MRS. O’FARREL. I’m glad to hear it.... Bill had very evidently been taking your daughter to task for her amazing indiscretions. DEAN. Amazing indiscretions? Clare’s? Will you kindly be more explicit. MRS. O’FARREL. I mean to be. Perhaps you remember some weeks ago I warned you that her intimacy with Michael Cosway ought to be stopped? DEAN. Certainly. And I took leave to disagree with you entirely. MRS. O’FARREL.