JAMES (getting up). All right, we'll try you in the office. I
expect you want a holiday first, though.

PHILIP (getting up). My dear uncle, this is holiday. Being in
London is holiday. Buying an evening paper--wearing a waistcoat
again--running after a bus--anything--it's all holiday.

JAMES. All right, then, come along with me now, and I'll introduce
you to Mr. Bamford.

PHILIP. Right. Who's he?

JAMES. Our manager. A little stiff, but a very good fellow. He'll
be delighted to hear that you are coming into the firm.

PHILIP (smiling). Perhaps I'd better bring my revolver, in case he
isn't.

JAMES (laughing with forced heartiness as they go together to the
door). Ha, ha! A good joke that! Ha, ha, ha! A good joke--but only
a joke, of course. Ha, ha! He, he, he!

[PHILIP goes out. JAMES, following him, turns at the door, and
looks round the room in a bewildered way. Was it a dream, or wasn't
it? He will never be quite certain.]



BELINDA