are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it would be impossible to endure them. But when they are away, we console ourselves for their absence by dwelling on their vices. That is how I have come to think my absent daughter Ariadne a perfect fiend; so do not try to ingratiate yourself here by impersonating her [he walks firmly away to the other side of the room].
LADY UTTERWORD. Ingratiating myself indeed! [With dignity]. Very well, papa. [She sits down at the drawing-table and pours out tea for herself].
THE CAPTAIN. I am neglecting my social duties. You remember Dunn? Billy Dunn?
LADY UTTERWORD. DO you mean that villainous sailor who robbed you?
THE CAPTAIN [introducing Ellie]. His daughter. [He sits down on the sofa].
ELLIE [protesting]. No—
Nurse Guinness returns with fresh tea.
THE CAPTAIN. Take that hogwash away. Do you hear?
NURSE. You've actually remembered about the tea! [To Ellie]. Oh, miss, he didn't forget you after all! You HAVE made an impression.
THE CAPTAIN [gloomily]. Youth! beauty! novelty! They are badly wanted in this house. I am excessively old. Hesione is only moderately young. Her children are not youthful.
LADY UTTERWORD. How can children be expected to be youthful in this house? Almost before we could speak we were filled with notions that might have been all very well for pagan philosophers of fifty, but were certainly quite unfit for respectable people of any age.
NURSE. You were always for respectability, Miss Addy.
