CHARTERIS. Nothing. It's such a confounded room to get about in.

JULIA (maliciously). Yes, isn't it. (She is moving back to guard the
right hand door, when Cuthbertson appears at it.)

CUTHBERTSON. May I take you down? (He offers her his arm.)

JULIA. No, really: you know it's against the rules of the club to
coddle women in any way. Whoever is nearest to the door goes first.

CUTHBERTSON. Oh well, if you insist. Come, gentlemen: let us go to
lunch in the Ibsen fashion--the unsexed fashion. (He goes out on the
left followed by Paramore, laughing. Craven goes last. He turns at the
door to see whether Julia is coming, and stops when he sees she is
not.)

CRAVEN. Come, Julia.

JULIA (with patronising affection). Yes, Daddy, dear, presently.
(Charteris is meanwhile stealing to the right hand door.) Don't wait
for me: I'll come in a moment. (The Colonel hesitates.) It's all
right, Daddy.

CRAVEN (very gravely). Don't be long, my dear. (He goes out.)

CHARTERIS. I'm off. (Makes a dash for the right hand door.)

JULIA (darting at him and seizing his wrist). Aren't you coming?

CHARTERIS. No. Unhand me Julia. (He tries to get away: she holds him.)