MRS BUILDER. Now I understand about Athene.

BUILDER. [Good-humouredly] Well, it's partly that. But [more
seriously] it's more the feeling I get that I'm not doing my duty by her.
Goodness knows whom she may be picking up with! Artists are a loose lot.
And young people in these days are the limit. I quite believe in moving
with the times, but one's either born a Conservative, or one isn't.
So you be ready at twelve, see. By the way, that French maid of yours,
Julia--

MRS BUILDER. What about her?

BUILDER. Is she--er--is she all right? We don't want any trouble with
Topping.

MRS BUILDER. There will be none with--Topping.
[She opens the door Left.]

BUILDER. I don't know; she strikes me as--very French.

MRS BUILDER smiles and passes out.

BUILDER fills his second pipe. He is just taking up the paper again
when the door from the hall is opened, and the manservant TOPPING,
dried, dark, sub-humorous, in a black cut-away, announces:

TOPPING. The Mayor, Sir, and Mr Harris!

THE MAYOR of Breconridge enters, He is clean-shaven, red-faced,
light-eyed, about sixty, shrewd, poll-parroty, naturally jovial,