Mrs P.-P. (rising): Major Dumbarton, these boats are uncomfortably small, but I trust we shall find ample accommodation for avoiding each other’s society during the rest of the voyage. The same wish applies to you, Mrs Carewe.

(Exit Mrs Paly-Paget, L.)

Maj.: What an unnatural mother! (Sinks into chair.)

Em.: I wouldn’t trust a child with any one who had a temper like hers. Oh, Dickie, why did you go and have such a large family? You always said you wanted me to be the mother of your children.

Maj.: I wasn’t going to wait while you were founding and fostering dynasties in other directions. Why you couldn’t be content to have children of your own, without collecting them like batches of postage stamps I can’t think. The idea of marrying a man with four children!

Em.: Well, you’re asking me to marry one with five.

Maj.: Five! (Springing to his feet.) Did I say five?

Em.: You certainly said five.

Maj.: Oh, Emily, supposing I’ve miscounted them! Listen now, keep count with me. Richard—that’s after me, of course.

Em.: One.

Maj.: Albert-Victor—that must have been in Coronation year.

Em.: Two!

Maj.: Maud. She’s called after—

Em.: Never mind who she’s called after. Three!

Maj.: And Gerald.

Em.: Four!

Maj.: That’s the lot.

Em.: Are you sure?

Maj.: I swear that’s the lot. I must have counted Albert-Victor as two.

Em.: Richard!

Maj.: Emily!

(They embrace.)