Men who let their daughters--! This age is the limit. [He makes a
vicious movement with the strop, as though laying it across someone's
back.]

MRS BUILDER. She would never stand that. Even wives object, nowadays.

BUILDER. [Grimly] The war's upset everything. Women are utterly out
of hand. Why the deuce doesn't she come?

MRS BUILDER. Suppose you leave me here to see her.

BUILDER. [Ominously] This is my job.

MRS BUILDER. I think it's more mine.

BUILDER. Don't stand there opposing everything I say! I'll go and have
another look--[He is going towards the bedroom when the sound of a
latchkey in the outer door arrests him. He puts the strop and brush
behind his back, and adds in a low voice] Here she is!

MRS BUILDER has approached him, and they have both turned towards
the opening door. GUY HERRINGHAME comes in. They are a little out
of his line of sight, and he has shut the door before he sees them.
When he does, his mouth falls open, and his hand on to the knob of
the door. He is a comely young man in Harris tweeds. Moreover, he
is smoking. He would speak if he could, but his surprise is too
excessive. BUILDER. Well, sir?

GUY. [Recovering a little] I was about to say the same to you, sir.