_Absolument!_ So that it satisfies me to spend the best years of my life in this manner, I don't see what anybody has to complain of. _Mon Dieu!_ I am relieved to think that some of my best years are still mine to squander! SIR RANDLE. [_To_ PHILIP, _who is standing by the writing-table in thought, a look of disquiet on his face--persistently._] Mr. Mackworth----! OTTOLINE. [_Rising impatiently._] My dear Dad--my dear mother--I propose that we postpone this discussion until Mr. Mackworth's new book _has_ failed to attract the public, [_crossing to_ SIR RANDLE] and that in the meantime he sha'n't be scowled at when he presents himself in Ennismore Gardens. [_Seating herself beside_ SIR RANDLE _and slipping her arm through his._] Dad----! LADY FILSON. [_To_ PHILIP.] Mr. Mackworth----! PHILIP. [_Rousing himself and turning to_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON_--abruptly._] Look here, Sir Randle! Look here, Lady Filson! I own that this arrangement between Ottoline and me is an odd one. It was arrived at yesterday impulsively; and, in her interests, there _is_ a good deal to be said against it. LADY FILSON. There's nothing to be said _for_ it. Oh----! SIR RANDLE. [_To_ LADY FILSON.] Winifred--[_To_ PHILIP.] Well, Mr. Mackworth? PHILIP. Well, Sir Randle, I--I'm prepared to take a sporting chance. It may be that I am misled by the sanguine temperament of the artist, who is apt to believe that his latest production will shake the earth to its foundation. I've gammoned myself before into such a belief, but--[_resolutely_] I'll stake everything on my next book! I give you my word that if it isn't a success--an indisputable popular success--I will join you both, in all sincerity, in urging Ottoline to break with me. Come! Does that mollify you? [_There is a short silence._ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON _look at each other in surprise and_ OTTOLINE _stares at_ PHILIP _open-mouthed._ OTTOLINE. Philip----! PHILIP. [_To_ SIR RANDLE.] Sir Randle----? SIR RANDLE. [_To_ LADY FILSON.] Winnie----? LADY FILSON. [_In a softer tone._] It certainly seems to me that Mr. Mackworth's undertaking--as far as it goes---- OTTOLINE. [_With a queer laugh._] Ha, ha, ha! As far as it goes, mother! [_Rising, thoughtfully._] Doesn't it go a little _too_ far? [_Contracting her brows._] It disposes of _me_ as if I were of no more account than a sawdust doll! [_To_ PHILIP.] Ah, traitor! [_In a low voice._] _Vos promesses a une femme sont sans valeur!_ PHILIP. [_Taking her hands reassuringly._] No, no----!