CARNABY. Upon Naples. GEORGE. I remember Naples. CARNABY. Sarah, admire those roses. SARAH. [_Cynically echoing her father._] Let's have George's opinion. _Now_ CARNABY _has drawn them both away, upon the terrace, and, the coast being clear_, LORD JOHN _walks towards_ ANN, _who looks at him very scaredly_. CARNABY. Emblem of secrecy among the ancients. SARAH. Look at this heavy head, won't it snap off? _The three move out of sight._ LORD JOHN. I'm sober now. ANN. I'm not. LORD JOHN. Uncompromising young lady. ANN. And, excuse me, I don't want to . . . play. LORD JOHN. Don't you wish me to apologise quietly, to you? ANN. Good manners are all mockery, I'm sure. LORD JOHN. I'm very much afraid you're a cynic. ANN. I'm not trying to be clever. LORD JOHN. Do I tease you? ANN. Do I amuse you? LORD JOHN. How dare I say so! ANN. [_After a moment._] I was not frightened. LORD JOHN. You kissed me back. ANN. Not on purpose. What do two people mean by behaving so . . . in the dark? LORD JOHN. I am exceedingly sorry that I hurt your feelings. ANN. Thank you, I like to feel. LORD JOHN. And you must forgive me. ANN. Tell me, why did you do it? LORD JOHN. Honestly I don't know. I should do it again. ANN. That's not quite true, is it? LORD JOHN. I think so. ANN. What does it matter at all! LORD JOHN. Nothing. GEORGE, SARAH _and then_ CARNABY _move into sight and along the terrace_, LORD JOHN _turns to them_. LORD JOHN. Has this place been long in your family, Mr. Leete? CARNABY. Markswayde my wife brought us, through the Peters's . . . old Chiltern people . . . connections of yours, of course. There is no entail. LORD JOHN _walks back to_ ANN. SARAH. George, you assume this republicanism as you would--no, would not--a coat of latest cut. CARNABY. Never argue with him . . . persist. SARAH. So does he. _The three pass along the terrace._ ANN. [_To_ LORD JOHN.] Will you sit down? LORD JOHN. It's not worth while. Do you know I must be quite twice your age? ANN. A doubled responsibility, my lord. LORD JOHN. I suppose it is. ANN. I don't say so. That's a phrase from a book . . . sounded well. LORD JOHN. My dear Miss Ann. . . [_He stops._] ANN. Go on being polite. LORD JOHN. If you'll keep your head turned away. ANN. Why must I? LORD JOHN. There's lightning in the glances of your eye. ANN. Do use vulgar words to me. LORD JOHN. [_With a sudden fatherly kindness._] Go to bed . . . you're dead tired. And good-bye . . . I'll be gone before you wake. ANN. Good-bye. _She shakes hands with him, then walks towards her father who is coming down the steps._ ANN. Papa, don't my roses want looking to? CARNABY. [_Pats her cheek._] These? ANN. Those. CARNABY. Abud is under your thumb, horticulturally speaking. ANN. Where's Sally? _She goes on to_ SARAH, _who is standing with_ GEORGE _at the top of the steps_. CARNABY _looks_ LORD JOHN _up and down_. LORD JOHN. [_Dusting his shoulder._] This cursed powder!