is simply taking advantage of his invitation to extricate herself from
a very embarrassing scene here. We're all going there. Come, Sylvia.
(He turns to go, followed by Cuthbertson.)

CHARTERIS (in consternation). Stop! (He gets between Craven and
Cuthbertson.) What hurry is there? Can't you give the man time?

CRAVEN. Time! What for?

CHARTERIS (talking foolishly in his agitation). Well, to get a little
rest, you know--a busy professional man like that! He's not had a
moment to himself all day.

CRAVEN. But Julia's with him.

CHARTERIS. Well, no matter: she's only one person. And she ought to
have an opportunity of laying her case before him. As a member of the
committee, I think that's only just. Be reasonable, Craven: give him
half an hour.

CUTHBERTSON (sternly). What do you mean by this, Charteris?

CHARTERIS. Nothing, I assure you. Only common consideration for poor
Paramore.

CUTHBERTSON. You've some motive. Craven: I strongly advise that we go
at once. (He grasps the door handle.)

CHARTERIS (coaxingly). No, no. (He puts his hand persuasively on
Craven's arm, adding) It's not good for your liver, Craven, to rush