[_LEONARD turns to regard them. He and his Mother are surrounded by indignant, half-menacing figures._] TIMBRELL. Take your hands from her. EDGAR. Turn the blackguard out. TIMBRELL. I can't believe--I can't understand--this fellow is too much for me. PENDLETON. He's too much for any of us. LEONARD. [_He looks again at his mother. She is very still and droops a little._] Mother! What did I say? Have I made a mistake? Have I hurt you? I wouldn't do that. [_He allows her to sink into a chair._] MARY. How could you say such things? LEONARD. What did I say? MARY. You made her out--no better than me. MRS. PENDLETON. Hush! Hush! TIMBRELL. I wouldn't have said it but since she has--You dare to suggest that your mother is no better than your wife? PENDLETON. Now, come, Timbrell; that's not the way to put it. MRS. TIMBRELL. Mary is good enough for me. TIMBRELL. That isn't the point. Don't you yourself resent--didn't you hear what he said? MRS. TIMBRELL. I thought he was a little cruel. LEONARD. But who cares for you in this family as I do. ADA. Who cares less? Who would treat her so abominably? EDGAR. My mother is to me an immaculate saint. To you-- LEONARD. What do I care for immaculate saints? What good are they to me? My mother's a strange woman. She has all kinds of curious reserves and she lives among you quite like one of yourselves. MARY. I will say this. He has always spoken beautifully about her. LEONARD. Bravo! Mary. Stand up for me. TIMBRELL. I don't wish to act hastily--I have tried hard to control myself-- LEONARD. Oh! be natural, sir. Be natural. TIMBRELL. Go down on your knees, sir, and beg your Mother's pardon. LEONARD. Certainly, if she wishes it. MRS. TIMBRELL. I do not wish it. TIMBRELL. Do you realise what he said about you? MRS. TIMBRELL. He's very clever. No doubt there's some truth in it. TIMBRELL. Some truth? Some truth? Do you mean to say--I don't understand you. I don't like to ask you what you mean--I-- PENDLETON. Now, Timbrell, I think we'd better leave it here. [_To MRS. PENDLETON._] Don't you think so, Maria? MRS. PENDLETON. I should want to carry it a little further in her place. MRS. TIMBRELL. [_Having quite recovered._] Would anybody like to ask me any questions? PENDLETON. [_Shocked._] Questions? MRS. TIMBRELL. About my early life. [_She gives a sad little laugh._] PENDLETON. Questions! My dear madam-- TIMBRELL. This is painful. This is quite impossible. [_To his wife._] I cannot understand you. I suppose you are trying to screen him. MARY. He always speaks of his mother beautifully. LEONARD. And why shouldn't I when I admire her immensely? Why can't you people be natural and let me be natural? I say there's a strange, mysterious, incalculable being behind her placid mask and you want to make out I mean something beastly. How have you stood it all these years, mother? And they never seem to have found you out. MRS. TIMBRELL. Do you think I've found myself out?