Why grotesque; why amazing? [_Sitting in the low-backed arm-chair._] All that is amazing about it is that Philip should lack the superior courage which enables a man, in special circumstances, to sink his pride and ignore ill-natured comments. PHILIP. [_To_ LADY FILSON.] At any rate, this is the arrangement that Ottoline and I have entered into; and I suggest, with every respect, that you and Sir Randle should raise no obstacle to my seeing her under your roof occasionally. LADY FILSON. As being preferable to hole-and-corner meetings in friends' houses----! OTTOLINE. [_Coolly._] Or under lamp-posts in the streets--yes, mother. LADY FILSON. [_Rising and crossing to the round table._] Ottoline----! SIR RANDLE. [_Bearing down upon_ PHILIP.] May I ask, Mr. Mackworth, how long you have been following your precarious profession? Pardon my ignorance. My reading is confined to our great journals; and _there_ your name has escaped me. PHILIP. Oh, I've been at it for nearly ten years. LADY FILSON. Ten years! PHILIP. [_To_ SIR RANDLE.] I began soon after I left Paris. SIR RANDLE. And what ground, sir, have you for anticipating that you will _ever_ achieve popularity as a writer? LADY FILSON. [_Sitting in the chair by the round table._] Preposterous! OTTOLINE. [_Stamping her foot._] Mother----! [_To_ SIR RANDLE.] Philip has high expectations of his next novel, Dad. It is to be published in the autumn--September. SIR RANDLE. [_To_ PHILIP.] And should that prove no more successful with the "wide public" than those which have preceded it----? PHILIP. Then I--then I fling another at 'em. SIR RANDLE. Which would occupy you----? PHILIP. Twelve months. LADY FILSON. And if _that_ fails----! PHILIP. [_Smiling again, but rather constrainedly._] Ah, you travel too quickly for me, Lady Filson--you and Sir Randle! You heap disaster on disaster---- SIR RANDLE. If _that_ fails, another twelve-months' labour! LADY FILSON. While my daughter is wasting the best years of her life! SIR RANDLE. [_Indignantly._] Really, Mr. Mackworth! [_Throwing himself upon the settee on the right._] Really! I appeal to you! Is this fair? LADY FILSON. Is it fair to Ottoline? OTTOLINE.