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NANCY. Dear one ... aren’t you going to the City this morning?

BROXOPP (on the sofa with her). I don’t know. There’s not much to do just now. Besides (tapping his button-hole), how could I go?

NANCY (getting up). Oh, you baby. Have you been waiting for me to put that in? (She goes to a bowl of carnations and takes one out.)

BROXOPP. Well, I couldn’t go without it, could I? Broxopp without his pink carnation—what would they say in the City? And after you’d put it in for me for twenty years, how could I put it in for myself?

NANCY (giving it the final touch). There!

BROXOPP (looking from it to her with a satisfied smile). Now, then, give me a kiss, and perhaps I’ll go.

NANCY. You’re only a boy still, Jim; much younger than Jack.

BROXOPP. Oh, Jack’s just at the age when they’re oldest. He’ll grow out of it. Now then, what about that kiss?

NANCY. Keep young, Jim. (She kisses him and he takes her in his arms.)

Enter BENHAM noiselessly.

BENHAM (addressing the ceiling). I beg your pardon, sir. (They disengage hastily.) But there’s a young woman called from one of the newspapers. I think she desires an interview for the journal with which she is connected. Or something of that nature, sir. (He hands BROXOPP her card.)