CUTHBERTSON. What, that fellow! Not he. He hangs about after her; but
he's not man enough for her. A woman of that sort likes a strong,
manly, deep-throated, broad-chested man.

PARAMORE (anxiously). Hm, a sort of sporting character, you think?

CUTHBERTSON. Oh, no, no. A scientific man, perhaps, like yourself. But
you know what I mean--a MAN. (Strikes himself a sounding blow on the
chest.)

PARAMORE. Of course; but Charteris is a man.

CUTHBERTSON. Pah! you don't see what I mean. (The Page Boy returns
with his salver.)

PAGE BOY (calling monotonously as before). Mr. Cuthbertson, Mr.
Cuthbertson, Mr. Cuth--

CUTHBERTSON. Here, boy. (He takes a card from the salver.) Bring the
gentleman up here. (The boy goes out.) It's Craven. He's coming to
lunch with me and Charteris. You might join us if you've nothing
better to do, when you've finished with the instrument man. If Julia
turns up I'll ask her too.

PARAMORE (flushing with pleasure). I shall be very happy. Thank you.
(He is going out at the right hand door when Craven enters.) Good
morning, Colonel Craven.

CRAVEN (at the door). Good morning--glad to see you. I'm looking for