Don't stop, Miss Craven. Go on, Charteris. (He comes down behind the
sofa, and hangs his overcoat on it, after taking an opera glass and a
theatre programme from the pockets, and putting them down on the
piano. Craven meanwhile goes to the fire-place and stands on the
hearthrug.)
CHARTERIS. No, thank you. Miss Craven has just been taking me through
an old song; and I've had enough of it. (He takes the song off the
piano desk and lays it aside; then closes the lid over the keyboard.)
JULIA (passing between the sofa and piano to shake hands with
Cuthbertson). Why, you've brought Daddy! What a surprise! (Looking
across to Craven.) So glad you've come, Dad. (She takes a chair near
the window, and sits there.)
CUTHBERTSON. Craven: let me introduce you to Mr. Leonard Charteris,
the famous Ibsenist philosopher.
CRAVEN. Oh, we know one another already. Charteris is quite at home at
our house, Jo.
CUTHBERTSON. I beg both your pardons. (Charteris sits down on the
piano stool.) He's quite at home here too. By the bye, where's Grace?
JULIA and CHARTERIS. Er-- (They stop and look at one another.)
JULIA (politely).
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