_An appalling crash of breaking glass is heard. Everybody shrieks._

MRS TARLETON. | Oh, are they killed? John: are they killed?
|
LORD SUMMERHAYS| Are you hurt? Is anything broken? Can you stand?
|
HYPATIA. | Oh, you must be hurt. Are you sure? Shall I get
| you some water? Or some wine?
|
TARLETON. | Are you all right? Sure you wont have some
| brandy just to take off the shock.

THE AVIATOR. No, thank you. Quite right. Not a scratch. I assure
you I'm all right.

BENTLEY. What luck! And what a smash! You are a lucky chap, I can
tell you.

_The Aviator and Tarleton come in through the pavilion, followed by
Lord Summerhays and Bentley, the Aviator on Tarleton's right. Bentley
passes the Aviator and turns to have an admiring look at him. Lord
Summerhays overtakes Tarleton less pointedly on the opposite side with
the same object._

THE AVIATOR. I'm really very sorry. I'm afraid Ive knocked your
vinery into a cocked hat. (_Effusively_) You dont mind, do you?

TARLETON. Not a bit. Come in and have some tea. Stay to dinner.
Stay over the week-end. All my life Ive wanted to fly.