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 a.s.sume 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 pa.s.s 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!

CARNABY. Do we respect innocence enough . . . any of us?

GEORGE _comes down the steps and joins them_.

GEORGE. Respectable politics will henceforth be useless to me.

CARNABY. My lord, was his grace satisfied with the young man's work abroad or was he not?

LORD JOHN. My father used to curse everyone.

CARNABY. That's a mere Downing Street custom.

LORD JOHN. And I seem to remember that a letter of yours from . . .

where were you in those days?

GEORGE. Paris . . . Naples . . . Vienna.

LORD JOHN. One place . . . once lightened a fit of gout.

CARNABY. George, you have in you the makings of a minister.

GEORGE. No.

CARNABY. Remember the Age tends to the disreputable.

GEORGE _moves away_, SARAH _moves towards them_.

CARNABY. George is something of a genius, stuffed with theories and possessed of a curious conscience. But I am fortunate in my children.

LORD JOHN. All the world knows it.

CARNABY. [_To_ SARAH.] It's lucky that yours was a love match, too. I admire you. Ann is 'to come,' so to speak.

SARAH. [_To_ LORD JOHN.] Were you discussing affairs?

LORD JOHN. Not I.

GEORGE. Ann.

ANN. Yes, George.