EDGAR. You won't get him away from himself. LEONARD. Brother, brother, I'll be silent if you've anything worth saying. MARY. You shouldn't say I'm like your Mother. LEONARD. But you are. MARY. You make me unhappy. LEONARD. Then I shouldn't say it. But you are. MRS. TIMBRELL. I'd be glad to think that I'm like you, Mary. MARY. It's all unhappy for me. I spoil everything. ADA. It isn't your fault. MARY. [_To ADA._] You want to blame it all on him. That's no use. It isn't all him. SHEILA. We want to be kind to you. MARY. It doesn't matter about me. I'd rather you were down on me and kind to him. This is his family. And I'm not comfortable ma'am and it's partly this dress and I wonder if you would mind if I went home and you'd all get on better together. I spoil everything. MRS. TIMBRELL. You silly girl; you spoil nothing and you're as good as gold and we all like you. ADA. You mustn't go, and the dress looks very nice. SHEILA. Very nice, indeed. MRS. TIMBRELL. And you shall have a little shawl over your shoulders if you like. TIMBRELL. All we want is our dinner. MARY. I'm sure you're all very kind--but-- LEONARD. We're getting on fine now. EDGAR. You see, you've been out of the conversation for about two minutes. LEONARD. Is that it, brother? EDGAR. What's this trick of calling me brother? LEONARD. I'm tasting the relationship. There's a certain piquancy in calling you brother. MRS. TIMBRELL. Leonard, you won't quarrel with your brother. LEONARD. No. And yet he's one of the men I could quarrel with. Once or twice I've been angry with Edgar. I've had the true intoxication of anger. [_To EDGAR._] Do you know it? It's a delirious joy. Your brain streams out like a scarlet banner. EDGAR. You quarrelled over trifles. LEONARD. Yes, they would do. Our differences were deep. TIMBRELL. Well, Pendleton. I hope you're having a pleasant evening. MRS. PENDLETON. Oh! we don't count this little bit of time before dinner. PENDLETON. I don't like brothers to quarrel, though. I hope you young fellows will make it up before the evening's out. MRS. PENDLETON. Well, you've got two very different sons, Mrs. Timbrell. PENDLETON. Leave that, Maria. LEONARD. Which favours the mother, Mrs. Pendleton? MRS. PENDLETON. Why, Mr. Edgar. LEONARD. No--no. You wouldn't say that, Mother. MRS. TIMBRELL. I've not said it. I've never said it. LEONARD. [_Takes his Mother by the shoulders._] You've borne two sons little mother. How did you manage to make them so different? By God! You're nearer to me; you're more like me. And like Mary; I tell you, you're like Mary. A strain of wildness. Yes. Where does my wildness come from? It comes from you. [_He shakes her gently._] I know you. Oh! you're demure. I know you. I wonder what you were before you became a respectable married woman. Ah! you cunning little one. You've doubled and turned in your time; you've-- TIMBRELL. Stop, stop. EDGAR. Monstrous. PENDLETON. By Jove! this is too much.