VALENTINE (getting up and speaking across to him with one knee on the
ottoman). But it's perfectly simple.

BOHUN (annihilating him with a vocal thunderbolt). It is. Mrs.
Clandon has adopted another name. That is the obvious explanation which
you feared I could not find out for myself. You mistrust my
intelligence, Mr. Valentine--- (Stopping him as he is about to protest.)
No: I don't want you to answer that: I want you to think over it when
you feel your next impulse to interrupt me.

VALENTINE (dazed). This is simply breaking a butterfly on a wheel.
What does it matter? (He sits down again.)

BOHUN. I will tell you what it matters, sir. It matters that if
this family difference is to be smoothed over as we all hope it may be,
Mrs. Clandon, as a matter of social convenience and decency, will have
to resume her husband's name. (Mrs. Clandon assumes an expression of
the most determined obstinacy.) Or else Mr. Crampton will have to call
himself Mr. Clandon. (Crampton looks indomitably resolved to do nothing
of the sort.) No doubt you think that an easy matter, Mr. Valentine.
(He looks pointedly at Mrs. Clandon, then at Crampton.) I differ from
you. (He throws himself back in his chair, frowning heavily.)

McCOMAS (timidly). I think, Bohun, we had perhaps better dispose of
the important questions first.

BOHUN. McComas: there will be no difficulty about the important
questions. There never is. It is the trifles that will wreck you at
the harbor mouth. (McComas looks as if he considered this a paradox.)
You don't agree with me, eh?