MARY. Never.

ROBERT. 'Aven't thought of 'im yourself, I s'pose? Wasn't
particular worth while, eh?

MARY. It's not that. I've been selfish. I never thought anything
about him until to-day.

ROBERT. What made you think of 'im--to-day?

MARY. I can't quite say. At least . . .

ROBERT. Mebbe 'e wrote--sent a telingram or summat, eh?--t' say as
'e was comin'?

MARY [quickly]. Oh no: he never writes: we never hear from him.
That's perhaps a bit selfish of him, too, isn't it?

ROBERT [after a moment]. Looks like it, don't it?

MARY. But I don't think he can be really selfish, after all.

ROBERT [with a ray of brightness]. Cos why?

MARY. Because he must be rather like my Uncle William and Uncle
Joshua.

[He looks at her curiously.]