I'm going to put Mr. Lever in your room.
[Catching sight o f the paint pot on the ground.] There's that
disgusting paint pot! Take it up at once, Tom, and put it in the
tree.
[The COLONEL picks up the pot and bears it to the hollow tree
followed by MRS. HOPE; he enters.]
MRS. HOPE. [Speaking into the tree.] Not there!
COLONEL. [From within.] Well, where then?
MRS. HOPE. Why--up--oh! gracious!
[MRS. GWYN, standing alone, is smiling. LEVER approaches from
the towing-path. He is a man like a fencer's wrist, supple and
steely. A man whose age is difficult to tell, with a quick,
good-looking face, and a line between his brows; his darkish
hair is flecked with grey. He gives the feeling that he has
always had to spurt to keep pace with his own life.]
MRS. HOPE. [Also entering the hollow tree.] No-oh!
COLONEL. [From the depths, in a high voice.] Well, dash it then!
What do you want?
MRS. GWYN. Peachey, may I introduce Mr. Lever to you? Miss Beech,
my old governess.
[They shake each other by the hand.]
LEVER. How do you do? [His voice is pleasant, his manner easy.]
MISS BEECH. Pleased to meet you.
[Her manner is that of one who is not pleased.
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