(_There is a low, sonorous honking off stage to indicate that a large motor-car has stopped in the immediate vicinity. Then a young man handsomely attired in a dress-suit and a patent-leather silk hat comes onto the stage. He is very mundane. His contrast to the spirituality of the other two is observable as far back as the first row of the balcony. This is_ RODNEY DIVINE.) DIVINE: I am looking for Ulsa Icky. (MR. ICKY _rises and stands tremulously between two dods._) MR. ICKY: My daughter is in Lunnon. DIVINE: She has left London. She is coming here. I have followed her. (_He reaches into the little mother-of-pearl satchel that hangs at his side for cigarettes. He selects one and scratching a match touches it to the cigarette. The cigarette instantly lights._) DIVINE: I shall wait. (_He waits. Several hours pass. There is no sound except an occasional cackle or hiss from the dods as they quarrel among themselves. Several songs can be introduced here or some card tricks by_ DIVINE _or a tumbling act, as desired._) DIVINE: It’s very quiet here. MR. ICKY: Yes, very quiet.... (_Suddenly a loudly dressed girl appears; she is very worldly. It is_ ULSA ICKY. _On her is one of those shapeless faces peculiar to early Italian painting._) ULSA: (_In a coarse, worldly voice_) Feyther! Here I am! Ulsa did what? MR. ICKY: (_Tremulously_) Ulsa, little Ulsa. (_They embrace each other’s torsos._) MR. ICKY: (_Hopefully_) You’ve come back to help with the ploughing. ULSA: (_Sullenly_) No, feyther; ploughing’s such a beyther. I’d reyther not. (_Though her accent is broad, the content of her speech is sweet and clean._) DIVINE: (_Conciliatingly_) See here, Ulsa. Let’s come to an understanding. (_He advances toward her with the graceful, even stride that made him captain of the striding team at Cambridge._) ULSA: You still say it would be Jack? MR. ICKY: What does she mean? DIVINE: (_Kindly_) My dear, of course, it would be Jack. It couldn’t be Frank. MR. ICKY: Frank who? ULSA: It _would_ be Frank! (_Some risqué joke can be introduced here._) MR. ICKY: (_Whimsically_) No good fighting...no good fighting... DIVINE: (_Reaching out to stroke her arm with the powerful movement that made him stroke of the crew at Oxford_) You’d better marry me. ULSA: (_Scornfully_) Why, they wouldn’t let me in through the servants’ entrance of your house. DIVINE: (_Angrily_) They wouldn’t! Never fear--you shall come in through the mistress’ entrance. ULSA: Sir! DIVINE: (_In confusion_) I beg your pardon. You know what I mean? MR. ICKY: (_Aching with whimsey_) You want to marry my little Ulsa?... DIVINE: I do. MR. ICKY: Your record is clean. DIVINE: Excellent. I have the best constitution in the world-- ULSA: And the worst by-laws. DIVINE: At Eton I was a member at Pop; at Rugby I belonged to Near-beer. As a younger son I was destined for the police force-- MR. ICKY: Skip that.... Have you money?...