PAMELA. Rather. It's splendid!

LETTY. _Do_ say you haven't told Bob.

GERALD. Why shouldn't Bob know?

PAMELA. No, I haven't told him, Letty.

LETTY. Good, then Tommy can tell him.

TOMMY. They do pull my leg, don't they, Miss Farringdon?

[Enter BOB from the outer hall in a blue flannel suit. He has
spoilt any chance he had of being considered handsome by a sullen
expression now habitual. Two years older than Gerald, he is not so
tall, but bigger, and altogether less graceful. He has got in the
way of talking in rather a surly voice, as if he suspected that any
interest taken in him was merely a polite one.]

GERALD. Hullo, Bob; good man.

BOB. Hullo. (He goes up to LADY FARRINGDON and kisses her.) How are
you, mother?

LADY FARRINGDON. It's so nice that you could get away, dear.

BOB. How are you, father? All right?

SIR JAMES. Ah, Bob! Come down to see your brother play for the