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(IRIS looks at him wonderingly and then goes over and sits by NANCY’S side.)

IRIS. You must be very, very proud of him.

NANCY. I am, dear; he knows it.

JACK (miserably). Well, of course, when you talk like that, you only make me feel an utter beast.

IRIS (with a sigh). The only thing is that the utter beast feeling might pass off. Whereas the feeling about Broxopp’s Beans never will. It’s a rotten thing to say, but I expect it’s true.

(There is a moment’s silence, broken by the arrival of SIR ROGER TENTERDEN. He is a magnificent-looking man, with a military moustache and [37]tight-fitting black tail-coat with a light waistcoat. His manner is superb—the sort of manner that can borrow a thousand pounds from anybody and leave the creditor with the feeling that he has had a favour conferred upon him. He is an intense egotist, although his company does not always realise it.

The three BROXOPPS are distinctly overawed by him; JACK, of course, less than the other two.)

BENHAM (enjoying it). Sir Roger Tenterden!