SIR WILLIAM. [With a certain geniality] My dear fellow, I don't want to put a pistol to your head. You've had a slack rein so far. I've never objected to your sowing a few wild oats-so long as you --er--[Unseen by SIR WILLIAM, BILL makes a sudden movement] Short of that--at all events, I've not inquired into your affairs. I can only judge by the--er--pecuniary evidence you've been good enough to afford me from time to time. I imagine you've lived like a good many young men in your position--I'm not blaming you, but there's a time for all things. BILL. Why don't you say outright that you want me to marry Mabel Lanfarne? SITS WILLIAM. Well, I do. Girl's a nice one. Good family--got a little money--rides well. Isn't she good-looking enough for you, or what? BILL. Quite, thanks. SIR WILLIAM. I understood from your mother that you and she were on good terms. BILL. Please don't drag mother into it. SIR WILLIAM. [With dangerous politeness] Perhaps you'll be good enough to state your objections. BILL. Must we go on with this? SIR WILLIAM. I've never asked you to do anything for me before; I expect you to pay attention now. I've no wish to dragoon you into this particular marriage. If you don't care for Miss Lanfarne, marry a girl you're fond of. BILL. I refuse. SIR WILLIAM. In that case you know what to look out for. [With a sudden rush of choler] You young.... [He checks himself and stands glaring at BILL, who glares back at him] This means, I suppose, that you've got some entanglement or other. BILL. Suppose what you like, sir. SITS WILLIAM. I warn you, if you play the blackguard---- BILL. You can't force me like young Dunning. Hearing the raised voices LADY CHESHIRE has come back from the billiard-room. LADY CHESHIRE. [Closing the door] What is it? SIR WILLIAM. You deliberately refuse! Go away, Dorothy. LADY CHESHIRE. [Resolutely] I haven't seen Bill for two months. SIR WILLIAM. What! [Hesitating] Well--we must talk it over again. LADY CHESHIRE. Come to the billiard-room, both of you! Bill, do finish those letters! With a deft movement she draws SIR WILLIAM toward the billiard-room, and glances back at BILL before going out, but he has turned to the writing-table. When the door is closed, BILL looks into the drawing-room, them opens the door under the stairs; and backing away towards the writing-table, sits down there, and takes up a pen. FREDA who has evidently been waiting, comes in and stands by the table. BILL. I say, this is dangerous, you know. FREDA. Yes--but I must. BILL. Well, then--[With natural recklessness] Aren't you going to kiss me? Without moving she looks at him with a sort of miserable inquiry. BILL. Do you know you haven't seen me for eight weeks? FREDA. Quite--long enough--for you to have forgotten. BILL. Forgotten! I don't forget people so soon. FREDA. No? BILL. What's the matter with you, Freda?