Sir Johnstone. Ronald? He’s my son and heir. Twenty years of age.
Rupert. Oh, I know Ronald. He was in the papers the other day for winning the high jump at the Varsity sports.
Sir Johnstone. That’s right.
Rupert. Yes. I remember it well. There was a picture of me next door to it.
Sir Johnstone, Oh—was there?
Rupert. Yes. Not—though—for winning the high jump. Oh yes, quite an old friend.
Brandon. Yes, he’s a sprightly lad, is Ronald.
[There is a slight pause.
Raglan. Brandon says he’s like me. Is that true, sir?
Sir Johnstone. Why, yes, he is rather like you, hen you come to think of it. Quite like, really.
Raglan (to Leila). I’ve a double apparently.
Leila. My dear! How excruciating!
Raglan (to Sir Johnstone). In what way is he like me, sir?
Sir Johnstone. Oh, I don’t know. Just in general youthfulness . . .
Brandon. And innocence, and freshness, and. . . .
Raglan. Oh, shut up, Brandon.
Brandon. He’s so afraid they won’t think him a man, isn’t he?
Sir Johnstone, That’s like Ronald, too. I’m afraid they won’t feel like that for long, though.
Brandon. No. They won’t, poor dears.
Sir Johnstone. Of course, my boy is the most infantile thing in the world. I honestly believe his only passion in holiday time is the movies. When I saw him at lunch he was just rushing off to the Coliseum.
[Granillo makes movement at mantelpiece.
Brandon. But that’s not the movies, is it? I
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