ADAM CHERRY (_Greeting Theodore._) Where's Mrs. Ben Dixon? THEODORE TRAVERS. She'll be here in a minute. It occurred to her when we got to Paddington Station that she hadn't had any lunch, and that this wasn't a scene to be gone through on an empty stomach. So we left her there laying in a beefsteak and a bottle of stout. Miss Deane has come with us. She thought she would like to see Nelly. PRIMROSE DEANE. (_Advancing and shaking hands with Cherry._) Yes, Mr. Cherry. Do you know if she's in? ADAM CHERRY. She's upstairs all alone, my dear. She'll be so pleased to see you, I know. PRIMROSE DEANE. Oh, I'll run up to her, then. (_Moves towards door._) ADAM CHERRY. Yes, do, my dear. (_Following her._) Let me---- PRIMROSE DEANE. (_Stopping him._) No, don't trouble, Mr. Cherry. I know my way. (_Opens door, and goes out._) THEODORE TRAVERS. I say--I suppose there's no where in this room where I could hide, is there? (_Looks round_.) It will be a lovely scene, you know--quite a family group, Ben and his two wives. (_Enthusiastically_.) Why, such an opportunity may not occur again for years. Can't you put me behind these curtains? (_He is by window_.) ADAM CHERRY. Oh, my dear boy, impossible! THEODORE TRAVERS. Um! 'Twould be awkward I suppose. Pity! (_hopefully,_) What sort of a keyhole have you got? (_Crossing to door, Right._) ADAM CHERRY. (_Laughs._) Not much good to you, I'm afraid. You can't get the key out. THEODORE TRAVERS. (_Who has opened the door--the key being outside--trying it._) Ah, no encouragement to an artist anywhere here. I shall have to pump the scene out of the mater afterwards, and her accounts are always so painfully idealistic. (_Ted enters._) Hulloa, Ted! TED MORRIS. Hulloa! You here? THEODORE TRAVERS. Yes. (_Looks at him._) You've been ploughed then? TED MORRIS. Who told you? THEODORE TRAVERS. You did, by your face. What does it feel like? TED MORRIS. (_With a cynical laugh_) Do you want to make notes? THEODORE TRAVERS. (_Taking out his note-book_) If you are sure you don't mind. TED MORRIS. Not at all. Delighted to be of service to the cause of literature. Now let me see how does a man feel. Well, at first he feels sick and dazed. THEODORE TRAVERS. (_Writing_) Yes. TED MORRIS. And then he gets mad and curses himself and the world and everybody in it; and feels---- THEODORE TRAVERS. Half a minute, old chap, I am not a typewriter. TED MORRIS. ----and feels that he'd like to go to the devil only he hasn't got the travelling expenses. THEODORE TRAVERS. Quite right. The expensiveness of vice I have always considered to be virtue's greatest safeguard. Poor people can only afford to go as far as the dogs. Yes? TED MORRIS. Oh, and then--oh, then he feels very weary of the whole thing and wishes that he could get away from it all, and go to sleep--for a long time. (_Throws himself in chair._) ADAM CHERRY.