ETHEL. Yes, I think that a cheque will give most scope to your generosity. Of course, if you desire to add any trimmings in the shape of a piano or a Turkey carpet you may . . and Denis and I will be very grateful. But I think I'd let yourself go over a cheque. MR. VOYSEY. You're a minx. ETHEL. What is the use of having money if you don't spend it on me? MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_giving up the cigar search._] Here, who's going to play? MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_pathetically as he gets up._] Well, if my wrist will hold out . . MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_To_ TREGONING.] No, don't you bother to look for them. [_He strides from the room, his voice echoing through the hall._] Honor, where are those Ramon Allones? ALICE. [_calling after._] She's in the drawing-room with Auntie and Mr. Colpus. MR. VOYSEY. Now I should suggest that you and Denis go and take off the billiard table cover. You'll find folding it up is a very excellent amusement. _He illustrates his meaning with his table napkin and by putting together the tips of his forefingers, roguishly._ ETHEL. I am not going to blush. I do kiss Denis . . occasionally . . when he asks me. MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_teasing her._] You are blushing. ETHEL. I am not. If you think we're ashamed of being in love, we're not, we're very proud of it. We will go and take off the billiard table cover and fold it up . . and then you can come in and play. Denis, my dear, come along solemnly and if you flinch I'll never forgive you. [_she marches off and reaches the door before her defiant dignity breaks down; then suddenly_--] Denis, I'll race you. _And she flashes out._ DENIS, _loyal, but with no histrionic instincts, follows her rather sheepishly_. DENIS. Ethel, I can't after dinner. MR. VOYSEY. Women play that game better than men. A man shuffles through courtship with one eye on her relations. _The Major comes stalking back, followed in a fearful flurry by his elder sister_, HONOR. _Poor_ HONOR [_her female friends are apt to refer to her as Poor_ HONOR] _is a phenomenon common to most large families. From her earliest years she has been bottle washer to her brothers. While they were expensively educated she was grudged schooling; her highest accomplishment was meant to be mending their clothes. Her fate is a curious survival of the intolerance of parents towards her sex until the vanity of their hunger for sons had been satisfied. In a less humane society she would have been exposed at birth. But if a very general though patronising affection, accompanied by no consideration at all, can bestow happiness_, HONOR _is not unhappy in her survival. At this moment, however, her life is a burden._ MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Honor, they are not in the dining-room. HONOR. But they must be!--Where else can they be? _She has a habit of accentuating one word in each sentence and often the wrong one._ MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. That's what you ought to know. MR. VOYSEY. [_as he moves towards the door._] Well . . will you have a game?