EMILY. [_more timidly still._] I'm afraid Booth's rather cross . . he's gone to look for Hugh. BEATRICE. [_with a shake of her head._] Honor . . I've a good mind to make you sew on these buttons for me. _In comes the Major, strepitant. He takes, so to speak, just time enough to train himself on_ BEATRICE _and then fires_. BOOTH. Beatrice, what on earth is this Emily has been telling me? BEATRICE. [_with elaborate calm._] Emily, what have you been telling Booth? BOOTH. Please . . please do not prevaricate. Where is Hugh? MRS. VOYSEY. [_looking over her spectacles._] What did you say, Booth? BOOTH. I want Hugh, Mother. MRS. VOYSEY. I thought you were playing billiards together. EDWARD _strolls back from despatching_ MR. BOOTH, _his face thoughtful_. BOOTH. [_insistently._] Edward, where is Hugh? EDWARD. [_with complete indifference._] I don't know. BOOTH. [_in trumpet tones._] Honor, will you oblige me by finding Hugh and saying I wish to speak to him, here, immediately? HONOR, _who has leapt at the sound of her name, flies from the room without a word_. BEATRICE. I know quite well what you want to talk about, Booth. Discuss the matter by all means if it amuses you . . but don't shout. BOOTH. I use the voice Nature has gifted me with, Beatrice. BEATRICE. [_as she searches for a glove button._] Certainly Nature did let herself go over your lungs. BOOTH. [_glaring round with indignation._] This is a family matter, otherwise I should not feel it my duty to interfere . . as I do. Any member of the family has a right to express an opinion. I want Mother's. Mother, what do you think? MRS. VOYSEY. [_amicably._] What about? BOOTH. Hugh and Beatrice separating. MRS. VOYSEY. They haven't separated. BOOTH. But they mean to. MRS. VOYSEY. Fiddle-de-dee! BOOTH. I quite agree with you. BEATRICE. [_with a charming smile._] This reasoning would convert a stone. BOOTH. Why have I not been told? BEATRICE. You have just been told. BOOTH. [_thunderously._] Before. BEATRICE. The truth is, dear Booth, we're all so afraid of you. BOOTH. [_a little mollified._] Ha . . I should be glad to think that. BEATRICE. [_sweetly._] Don't you? BOOTH. [_intensely serious._] Beatrice, your callousness shocks me! That you can dream of deserting Hugh . . a man of all others who requires constant care and attention. BEATRICE. May I remark that the separation is as much Hugh's wish as mine? BOOTH. I don't believe that. BEATRICE. [_her eyebrows up._] Really! BOOTH. I don't imply that you're lying. But you must know that it's Hugh's nature to wish to do anything that he thinks anybody wishes him to do. All my life I've had to stand up for him . . and by Jove, I'll continue to do so. EDWARD. [_from the depths of his armchair._] If you'd taught him to stand up for himself-- _The door is flung almost off its hinges by_ HUGH _who then stands stamping and pale green with rage_.