LATIMER. There’s no accounting for dreams. I had an absurd one too last night. ANNE. What was it? LATIMER. A lonely house. Father and daughter living together. Father old, selfish, absorbed in his work. Daughter left to herself; her only companion, books; knowing nothing of the world. A man comes into her life—the first. He makes much of her. It is a new experience for the daughter. She is grateful to him, so grateful, so very proud that she means anything to him. He tells her when it is too late that he is married; talks of an impossible wife; tells her that she is his real mate. Let her come with him and see something of the world which she has never known. She comes.... Dear me, what silly things one dreams! ANNE. Absurd things.... (_So he knows! He knows all about it! But she will not be treated as a child. She will carry it off yet._) When can we have the car? (_Now she is carrying it off._) LATIMER. The car? ANNE. Leonard’s car. LATIMER. You wish to continue the adventure? ANNE. Why not? LATIMER. Dear, dear! What a pity! (_Looking at his watch._) In twenty-five minutes? ANNE. That will do nicely, thank you. LATIMER. We must let Leonard have a little breakfast first, if he is to cross the Channel to-day. (_He gets up._) In twenty-five minutes then. ANNE (_half holding out her hand_). I shall see you again? LATIMER (_bending over it_). If only to wish you Godspeed. (_She looks at him for a moment, and then turns and goes out. He picks up his paper and settles with it in an arm-chair, his back to the breakfast-table. LEONARD comes in. He is in a dirty, rather disreputable, once white, bath-gown. His hair is unbrushed, his cheeks—the cheeks of a dark man—unshaved and blue. He has a horrible pair of bedroom slippers on his feet, above which, not only his socks, but almost a hint of pantaloons, may be seen on the way to the dressing-gown. He comes in nervously, and is greatly relieved to find that the breakfast-table is empty. He does not notice MR. LATIMER. On his way to the table he stops at a mirror on the wall, and standing in front of it, tries to persuade himself that his chin is not so bad after all. Then he pours himself out some coffee, helps himself to a kipper and falls to ravenously._) LATIMER. Ah, good morning, Leonard. LEONARD (_starting violently and turning round_). Good Lord! I didn’t know you were there. LATIMER. You were so hungry.... I trust you slept well. LEONARD. Slept well! Of all the damned draughty rooms—— Yes, and what about my luggage? LATIMER (_surprised_). Your luggage? LEONARD. Yes, never put on the car, your fellow, what’s ’is name—Joseph says. LATIMER. Dear me, we must enquire into this. Lost your luggage? Dear me, that’s a very unfortunate start for a honeymoon. That means bad luck, Leonard. (_DOMINIC comes in._) Dominic, what’s this about his lordship’s luggage?