We're not Catholics. But when the Samuelses got an
Archdeacon's son to form their boy's mind, Mr Gilbey thought Bobby
ought to have a chance too. And the Monsignor is a customer. Mr
Gilbey consulted him about Bobby; and he recommended a brother of his
that was more sinned against than sinning.
GILBEY. [on tenderhooks] She dont want to hear about that, Maria.
[To Dora] Whats your business?
DORA. I'm afraid it was all my fault.
GILBEY. What was all your fault? I'm half distracted. I dont know
what has happened to the boy: hes been lost these fourteen days--
MRS GILBEY. A fortnight, Rob.
GILBEY. --and not a word have we heard of him since.
MRS GILBEY. Dont fuss, Rob.
GILBEY. [yelling] I will fuss. Youve no feeling. You dont care
what becomes of the lad. [He sits down savagely].
DORA. [soothingly] Youve been anxious about him. Of course. How
thoughtless of me not to begin by telling you hes quite safe. Indeed
hes in the safest place in the world, as one may say: safe under lock
and key.
GILBEY. [horrified, pitiable] Oh my-- [his breath fails him].
Do you mean that when he was in the police court he was in the dock?
Oh, Maria! Oh, great Lord! What has he done? What has he got for
it? [Desperate] Will you tell me or will you see me go mad on my
own carpet?
DORA. [sweetly] Yes, old dear--
MRS GILBEY. [starting at the familiarity] Well!
DORA. [continuing] I'll tell you: but dont you worry: hes all
right.
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