MR. MORLAND. You never say precisely what your age is. MR. AMY. I am in the late sixties. I am sure I have told you that before. MR. MORLAND. It seems to me you have been in the sixties longer than it is usual to be in them. MRS. MORLAND (_with her needles_). James! MR. MORLAND. No offence, George, I was only going to say that at seventy-three I certainly don’t feel my age. How do you feel, George, at--at sixty-six? (_More loudly, as if MR. AMY were a little deaf._) Do you feel your sixty-six years? MR. AMY (_testily_). I am more than sixty-six. But I certainly don’t feel my age. It was only last winter that I learned to skate. MR. MORLAND. I still go out with the hounds. You forgot to come last time, George. MR. AMY. If you are implying anything against my memory, James. MR. MORLAND (_peering through his glasses_). What do you say? MR. AMY. I was saying that I have never used glasses in my life. MR. MORLAND. If I wear glasses occasionally it certainly isn’t because there is anything defective in my eyesight. But the type used by newspapers nowadays is so vile---- MR. AMY. There I agree with you. Especially Bradshaw. MR. MORLAND (_not hearing him_). I say the type used by newspapers of to-day is vile. Don’t you think so? MR. AMY. I have just said so. (_Pleasantly._) You are getting rather dull of hearing, James. MR. MORLAND. I am? I like that, George! Why, I have constantly to shout to you nowadays. MR. AMY. What annoys me is not that you are a little deaf, you can’t help that. But from the nature of your replies I often see that you are pretending to have heard what I said when you did not. That is rather vain, James. MR. MORLAND. Vain! Now you brought this on yourself, George. I have got something here I might well be vain of, and I meant not to show it to you because it will make you squirm. (_MRS. MORLAND taps warningly._) MR. MORLAND. I didn’t mean that, George. I am sure that you will be delighted. What do you think of this? (_He produces a water-colour which his friend examines at arm’s length._) Let me hold it out for you as your arms are so short. (_The offer is declined._) MR. AMY (_with a sinking_). Very nice. What do you call it? MR. MORLAND. Have you any doubt? I haven’t the slightest. I am sure that it is an early Turner. MR. AMY (_paling_). Turner! MR. MORLAND. What else can it be? Holman suggested a Gurton or even a Dayes. Absurd! Why, Dayes was only a glorified drawing-master. I flatter myself I can’t make a mistake about a Turner. There is something about a Turner difficult to define, but unmistakable, an absolute something. It is a charming view, too; Kirkstall Abbey obviously. MR. AMY. Rivaulx, I am convinced. MR. MORLAND. I say Kirkstall. MRS. MORLAND (_with her needles_). James! MR. MORLAND. Well, you may be right, the place doesn’t matter.