PHILIP. H'm! I always used to be frightened of him. ... I suppose
he's just the same. He seemed just the same last night--and he
still has breakfast at eight o'clock. Been making pots of money, I
suppose?
EMILY. He never tells me exactly, but he did speak once about the
absurdity of the excess-profits tax. You see, jam is a thing the
Army wants.
PHILIP. It certainly gets it.
EMILY. It was so nice for him, because it made him feel he was
doing his bit, helping the poor men in the trenches.
[Enter MARY.]
MARY. Mrs. Higgins wishes to speak to you, ma'am. (She looks at
PHILIP as much as to say, "There you are!")
EMILY (getting up). Yes, I'll come. (To PHILIP) I think I'd better
just see what she wants, Philip.
PHILIP (firmly to MARY). Tell Mrs. Higgins to come here. (MARY
hesitates and looks at her mistress.) At once, please. [Exit MARY.]
EMILY (upset). Philip, dear, I don't know what Mrs. Higgins will
say--
PHILIP. No; nobody seems to. I thought we might really find out for
once.
EMILY (going towards the door). Perhaps I'd better go--
PHILIP (putting his arm round her waist). Oh no, you mustn't. You
see, she really wants to see _me_.
EMILY. _You_?
PHILIP. Yes; I ordered breakfast five minutes ago.
EMILY. Philip! My poor boy! Why didn't you tell me? and I daresay I
could have got it for you.
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