ANN. [_Quietly to_ SARAH.] I will speak sometimes. SARAH. Sit down again. _Again an uncomfortable silence, a ludicrous air about it this time._ MR. TATTON. Now, we'll say no more about that bet, but I was right. LORD JOHN. Do you know, Mr. Tatton, that I have a temper to lose? MR. TATTON. What the devil does that matter to me, sir . . . my lord? LORD JOHN. I owe you a saddle and bridle. MR. TATTON. You'll oblige me by taking the mare. LORD JOHN. We'll discuss it to-morrow. MR. TATTON. I've said all I have to say. GEORGE. The whole matter's ridiculous! MR. TATTON. I see the joke. Good-night, Lady Cottesham, and I kiss your hand. SARAH. Good morning, Mr. Tat. MR. TATTON. Good morning, Miss Ann, I . . . SARAH. [_Shielding her sister._] Good morrow is appropriate. MR. TATTON. I'll go by the fields. [_To_ CARNABY.] Thank you for a pleasant evening. Good morrow, George. Do we start at mid-day, my lord? LORD JOHN. Any time you please. MR. TATTON. Not at all. [_He hands the candlestick--of which he has never before left go--to_ GEORGE.] I brought this for a link. Thank you. CARNABY. Mid-day will be midnight if you sleep at all now; make it two or later. MR. TATTON. We put up at Guildford. I've done so before. I haven't my hat. It's a day and a half's ride. TATTON _goes quickly up the other steps and away. It is now quite light._ GEORGE _stands by the steps_, LORD JOHN _is on one of the seats_, CARNABY _strolls round, now and then touching the rose trees_, SARAH _and_ ANN _are on the other seat_. GEORGE. Morning! These candles still smell. SARAH. How lively one feels and isn't. CARNABY. The flowers are opening. ANN. [_In a whisper._] Couldn't we go in? SARAH. Never run away. ANN. Everything looks so odd. SARAH. What's o'clock . . . my lord? LORD JOHN. Half after four. ANN. [_To_ SARAH.] My eyes are hot behind. GEORGE. What ghosts we seem! SARAH. What has made us spend such a night? CARNABY. Ann incited me to it. [_He takes snuff._] SARAH. In a spirit of rebellion against good country habits. . . ANN. [_To her sister again._] Don't talk about me. SARAH. They can see that you're whispering. CARNABY. . . . Informing me now she was a woman and wanted excitement. GEORGE. There's a curse. CARNABY. How else d'ye conceive life for women? SARAH. George is naturally cruel. Excitement's our education. Please vary it, though. CARNABY. I have always held that to colour in the world-picture is the greatest privilege of the husband. Sarah. SARAH. [_Not leaving_ ANN'S _side_.] Yes, Papa. CARNABY. Sarah, when Sir Charles leaves Brighton. . . SARAH _rises but will not move further_. CARNABY. [_Sweetly threatening._] Shall I come to you? _But she goes to him now._ CARNABY. By a gossip letter from town . . . SARAH. [_Tensely._] What is it? CARNABY. You mentioned to me something of his visiting Naples. SARAH. Very well. I detest Italy. CARNABY. Let's have George's opinion. _He leads her towards_ GEORGE. GEORGE. Yes?