Part 2

JUDITH: “I’ve given you all that makes life worth living—my youth, my womanhood, and now my child. Would you tear the very heart out of me? I tell you that it’s infamous that men like you should be allowed to pollute Society. You have ruined my life—I have nothing left—nothing. God in heaven, where am I to turn for help....”

SOREL (_through clenched teeth_): “Is this true? Answer me—is this true?”

JUDITH (_wailing_): “Yes, yes!”

SOREL (_springing at SIMON_): “You cur!”

[_The front door bell rings._

JUDITH: Damn! There’s the bell.

SOREL (_rushing to the glass_): I look hideous!

SIMON: Yes, dear.

[_CLARA enters._

JUDITH: Clara—before you open the door—we shall be eight for dinner.

CLARA: My God!

SIMON: And for breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner to-morrow.

JUDITH (_vaguely_): Will you get various rooms ready?

CLARA: I shall have to—they can’t sleep in the passage.

SOREL: How we’ve upset Clara.

JUDITH: It can’t be helped—nothing can be helped. It’s Fate—everything that happens is Fate. That’s always a great comfort to me.

CLARA: More like arrant selfishness.

JUDITH: You mustn’t be pert, Clara.

CLARA: Pert I may be, but I ’ave got some thought for others. Eight for dinner—Amy going home early. It’s more nor less than an imposition.

[_The bell rings again._

SIMON: Hadn’t you better let them all in?

[_CLARA goes to the front door and admits SANDY TYRELL, who is a fresh-looking young man; he has an unspoilt, youthful sense of honour and rather big hands, owing to a misplaced enthusiasm for amateur boxing._

[_CLARA goes out._

SANDY (_to JUDITH_): I say, it’s perfectly ripping of you to let me come down.

JUDITH: Are you alone?

SANDY (_surprised_): Yes.

JUDITH: I mean, you didn’t meet anyone at the station?

SANDY: I motored down; my car’s outside. Would you like me to meet anybody?

JUDITH: Oh, no. I must introduce you. This is my daughter Sorel, and my son Simon.

SANDY (_shaking hands_): How-do-you-do.

SOREL (_coldly_): I’m extremely well, thank you, and I hope you are.

SIMON: So do I.

[_They both go upstairs rather grandly. SANDY looks shattered._

JUDITH: You must forgive me for having rather peculiar children. Have you got a bag or anything?

SANDY: Yes; it’s in the car.

JUDITH: We’d better leave it there for the moment, as Clara has to get the tea. We’ll find you a room afterwards.

SANDY: I’ve been looking forward to this most awfully.

JUDITH: It is nice, isn’t it? You can see as far as Marlow on a clear day, they tell me.

SANDY: I meant I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.

JUDITH: How perfectly sweet of you. Would you like a drink?

SANDY: No thanks. I’m in training.

JUDITH (_sitting on sofa and motioning him to sit beside her_): How lovely. What for?

SANDY: I’m boxing again in a couple of weeks.

JUDITH: I must come to your first night.

SANDY: You look simply splendid.

JUDITH: I’m so glad. You know, you mustn’t mind if Simon and Sorel insult you a little—they’ve been very bad-tempered lately.

SANDY: It’s awfully funny you having a grown-up son and daughter at all. I can hardly believe it.

JUDITH (_quickly_): I was married very young.

SANDY: I don’t wonder. You know, it’s frightfully queer the way I’ve been planning to know you for ages, and I never did until last week.

JUDITH: I liked you from the first, really, because you’re such a nice shape.

SANDY (_slightly embarrassed_): Oh, I see....

JUDITH: Small hips and lovely long legs—I wish Simon had smaller hips. Do you think you could teach him to box?

SANDY: Rather—if he likes.

JUDITH: That’s just the trouble—I’m afraid he won’t like. He’s so dreadfully un——that sort of thing. But never mind; you must use your influence subtly. I’m sure David would be pleased.

SANDY: Who’s David?

JUDITH: My husband.

SANDY (_surprised_): Oh!

JUDITH: Why do you say “Oh” like that? Didn’t you know I had a husband?

SANDY: I thought he was dead.

JUDITH: No, he’s not dead; he’s upstairs.

SANDY: You’re quite different from what you were the other day.

JUDITH: It’s this garden hat—I’ll take it off. (_She does so._) There. I’ve been pruning the calceolarias.

SANDY (_puzzled_): Oh?——

JUDITH: I love my garden, you know—it’s so peaceful and quaint. I spend long days dreaming away in it—you know how one dreams.

SANDY: Oh, yes.

JUDITH (_warming up_): I always longed to leave the brittle glamour of cities and theatres and find rest in some old-world nook. That’s why we came to Cookham.

SANDY: It’s awfully nice—Cookham.

JUDITH: Have you ever seen me on the stage?

SANDY: Rather!

JUDITH: What in?

SANDY: That thing when you pretended to cheat at cards to save your husband’s good name.

JUDITH: Oh, “The Bold Deceiver.” That play was never quite right.

SANDY: You were absolutely wonderful. That was when I first fell in love with you.

JUDITH (_delighted_): Was it, really?

SANDY: Yes; you were so frightfully pathetic and brave.

JUDITH (_basking_): Was I?

SANDY: Rather!

[_There is a pause._

JUDITH: Well, go on....

SANDY: I feel such a fool, telling you what I think, as though it mattered.

JUDITH: Of course it matters—to me, anyhow.

SANDY: Does it—honestly?

JUDITH: Certainly.

SANDY: It seems too good to be true—sitting here and talking as though we were old friends.

JUDITH: We _are_ old friends—we probably met in another life. Reincarnation, you know—fascinating!

SANDY: You do say ripping things.

JUDITH: Do I? Give me a cigarette and let’s put our feet up.

SANDY: All right.

[_They settle themselves comfortably at opposite ends of the sofa, smoking._

JUDITH: Can you punt?

SANDY: Yes—a bit.

JUDITH: You must teach Simon—he always gets the pole stuck.

SANDY: I’d rather teach you.

JUDITH: You’re so gallant and chivalrous—much more like an American than an Englishman.

SANDY: I should like to go on saying nice things to you for ever.

JUDITH (_giving him her hand_): Sandy!

[_There comes a loud ring at the bell. JUDITH jumps._

There now!

SANDY: Is anyone else coming to stay?

JUDITH: Anyone else! You don’t know—you just don’t know. Give me my hat.

SANDY (_giving it to her_): You said it would be quite quiet, with nobody at all.

JUDITH: I was wrong. It’s going to be very noisy, with herds of angry people stamping about.

[_CLARA enters and opens the front door. MYRA ARUNDEL is posed outside, consciously well-dressed, with several suit-cases, and a tennis racquet._

MYRA (_advancing_): Judith—my—dear—this is divine!

JUDITH (_emptily_): Too, too lovely——Where are the others?

MYRA: What others?

[_CLARA goes out._

JUDITH: Did you come by the four-thirty?

MYRA: Yes.

JUDITH: Didn’t you see anyone at the station?

MYRA: Yes; several people, but I didn’t know they were coming here.

JUDITH: Well, they are.

MYRA: Sorel said it was going to be just ourselves this week-end.

JUDITH (_sharply_): Sorel?

MYRA: Yes—didn’t she tell you she’d asked me? Weren’t you expecting me?

JUDITH: Simon muttered something about your coming, but Sorel didn’t mention it. Wasn’t that odd of her?

MYRA: You’re a divinely mad family. (_To SANDY_) How-do-you-do? It’s useless to wait for introductions with the Blisses. My name’s Myra Arundel.

JUDITH (_airily_): Sandy Tyrell, Myra Arundel; Myra Arundel, Sandy Tyrell. There.

MYRA: Is that your car outside?

SANDY: Yes.

MYRA: Well, Judith, I _do_ think you might have told me someone was motoring down. A nice car would have been so much more comfortable than that beastly train.

JUDITH: I never knew you were coming until a little while ago.

MYRA: It’s heavenly here—after London. The heat was terrible when I left. You look awfully well, Judith. Rusticating obviously agrees with you.

JUDITH: I’m glad you think so. Personally, I feel that a nervous breakdown is imminent.

MYRA: My dear, how ghastly! What’s the matter?

JUDITH: Nothing’s the matter yet, Myra, but I have presentiments. Come upstairs, Sandy, and I’ll show you your room.

[_She begins to go upstairs, followed by SANDY. Then she turns._

I’ll send Simon down to you. He’s shaving, I think, but you won’t mind that, will you?

[_She goes off. MYRA makes a slight grimace after her, then she helps herself to a cigarette and wanders about the hall—she might almost play the piano a little; anyhow, she is perfectly at home._

[_SIMON comes downstairs very fast, putting on his coat. He has apparently finished his toilet._

SIMON: Myra, this is marvellous! (_He tries to kiss her._)

MYRA (_pushing him away_): No, Simon dear; it’s too hot.

SIMON: You look beautifully cool.

MYRA: I’m more than cool really, but it’s not climatic coolness. I’ve been mentally chilled to the marrow by Judith’s attitude.

SIMON: Why, what did she say?

MYRA: Nothing very much. She was bouncing about on the sofa with a hearty young thing in flannels, and seemed to resent my appearance rather.

SIMON: You mustn’t take any notice of Mother.

MYRA: I’ll try not to, but it’s difficult.

SIMON: She adores you, really.

MYRA: I’m sure she does.

SIMON: She’s annoyed to-day because Father and Sorel have been asking people down without telling her.

MYRA: Poor dear! I quite see why.

SIMON: You look enchanting.

MYRA: Thank you, Simon.

SIMON: Are you pleased to see me?

MYRA: Of course. That’s why I came.

SIMON: Darling!

MYRA: Sssh! Don’t shout.

SIMON: I feel most colossally temperamental—I should like to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you and break everything in the house and then jump into the river.

MYRA: Dear Simon!

SIMON: You’re everything I want you to be—absolutely everything. Marvellous clothes, marvellous looks, marvellous brain——Oh, God, it’s terrible....

MYRA: I dined with Charlie Templeton last night.

SIMON: Well, you’re a devil. You only did it to annoy me. He’s far too plump, and he can’t do anything but dither about the Embassy in badly-cut trousers. You loathe him really; you know you do—you’re too intelligent not to. You couldn’t like him and me at the same time—it’s impossible!

MYRA: Don’t be so conceited.

SIMON: Darling—I adore you.

MYRA: That’s right.

SIMON: But you’re callous—that’s what it is, callous! You don’t care a damn. You don’t love me a bit, do you?

MYRA: Love’s a very big word, Simon.

SIMON: It isn’t—it’s tiny. What are we to do?

MYRA: What do you mean?

SIMON: We can’t go on like this.

MYRA: I’m not going on like anything.

SIMON: Yes, you are; you’re going on like Medusa, and there are awful snakes popping their heads out at me from under your hat—I shall be turned to stone in a minute, and then you’ll be sorry.

MYRA (_laughing_): You’re very sweet, and I’m very fond of you.

SIMON: Tell me what you’ve been doing—everything.

MYRA: Nothing.

SIMON: What did you do after you’d dined with Charlie Templeton?

MYRA: Supped with Charlie Templeton.

SIMON: Well, I don’t mind a bit. I hope you ate a lot and enjoyed yourself—there!

MYRA: Generous boy! Come and kiss me.

SIMON: You’re only playing up to me now; you don’t really want to a bit.

MYRA: I’m aching for it.

SIMON (_kissing her violently_): I love you.

MYRA: This week-end’s going to be strenuous.

SIMON: Hell upon earth—fifteen million people in the house. We’ll get up at seven and rush away down the river.

MYRA: No, we won’t.

SIMON: Don’t let either of us agree to anything we say—we’ll both be difficult. I love being difficult.

MYRA: You certainly do.

SIMON: But I’m in the most lovely mood now. Just seeing you makes me feel grand——

MYRA: Is your father here?

SIMON: Yes; he’s working on a new novel.

MYRA: He writes brilliantly.

SIMON: Doesn’t he? He drinks too much tea, though.

MYRA: It can’t do him much harm, surely?

SIMON: It tans the stomach.

MYRA: Who is Sandy Tyrell?

SIMON: Never heard of him.

MYRA: He’s here, with Judith.

SIMON: Oh, that poor thing with hot hands! We’ll ignore him.

MYRA: I thought he looked rather nice.

SIMON: You must be mad. He looked disgusting.

MYRA (_laughing_): Idiot!

SIMON (_flinging himself on the sofa_): Smooth my hair with your soft white hands.

MYRA (_ruffling it_): It’s got glue on it.

SIMON (_catching her hand and kissing it_): You smell heavenly. What is it?

MYRA: Borgia of Rosine.

SIMON: How appropriate. (_He pulls her down and kisses her._)

MYRA (_breaking away_): You’re too demonstrative to-day, Simon.

[_The front door bell rings._

SIMON: Damn, damn! It’s those drearies.

[_MYRA powders her nose as CLARA crosses to open door._

[_RICHARD GREATHAM and JACKIE CORYTON come in. There is, by this time, a good deal of luggage on the step. RICHARD is iron-grey and tall; JACKIE is small and shingled, with an ingenuous manner which will lose its charm as she grows older._

RICHARD: This is Mrs. Bliss’s house.

CLARA (_off-hand_): Oh, yes, this is it.

RICHARD: Is Miss Sorel Bliss in?

CLARA: I expect so. I’ll see if I can find her. (_She goes upstairs, humming a tune._)

SIMON: Hallo. Did you have a nice journey?

RICHARD: Yes, thank you, very nice. I met Miss Coryton at the station. We introduced ourselves while we were waiting for the only taxi to come back.

MYRA: Oh, _I_ took the only taxi. How maddening of me.

RICHARD: Mrs. Arundel! How-do-you-do. I never recognised you.

[_They shake hands._

JACKIE: I did.

MYRA: Why? Have we met anywhere?

JACKIE: No; I mean I recognised you as the one who took the taxi.

RICHARD (_to SIMON_): You are Sorel’s brother?

SIMON: Yes; she’ll be down in a minute. Come out into the garden, Myra——

MYRA: But, Simon, we can’t....

SIMON (_grabbing her hand and dragging her off_): Yes, we can. I shall go mad if I stay in the house a moment longer. (_Over his shoulder to RICHARD and JACKIE_) Tea will be here soon.

[_He and MYRA go off._

JACKIE: Well!

RICHARD: A strange young man.

JACKIE: Very rude, I think.

RICHARD: Have you ever met him before?

JACKIE: No; I don’t know any of them except Mr. Bliss—he’s a wonderful person.

RICHARD: I wonder if he knows you’re here.

JACKIE: Perhaps that funny woman who opened the door will tell him.

RICHARD: It was fortunate that we met at the station.

JACKIE: I’m frightfully glad. I should have been terrified arriving all by myself.

RICHARD: I do hope the weather will keep good over Sunday—the country round here is delightful.

JACKIE: Yes.

RICHARD: There’s nowhere like England in the spring and summer.

JACKIE: No, there isn’t, is there?

RICHARD: There’s a sort of _quality_ you find in no other countries.

JACKIE: Have you travelled a lot?

RICHARD (_modestly_): A good deal.

JACKIE: How lovely.

[_There is a pause._

RICHARD: Spain is very beautiful.

JACKIE: Yes, I’ve always heard Spain was awfully nice.

RICHARD: Except for the bull-fights. No one who ever really loved horses could enjoy a bull-fight.

JACKIE: Nor anyone who loved bulls either.

RICHARD: Exactly.

JACKIE: Italy’s awfully nice, isn’t it?

RICHARD: Oh, yes, charming.

JACKIE: I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.

RICHARD: Rome is a beautiful city.

JACKIE: Yes, I’ve always heard Rome was lovely.

RICHARD: And Naples and Capri—Capri’s enchanting.

JACKIE: It must be.

RICHARD: Have you ever been abroad at all?

JACKIE: Oh, yes; I went to Dieppe once—we had a house there for the summer.

RICHARD (_kindly_): Dear little place—Dieppe.

JACKIE: Yes, it was lovely.

[_JUDITH comes downstairs, followed by SANDY, with his arms full of cushions. She motions him out into the garden, sits down and puts on her goloshes, and then follows him._

JACKIE: Well!

RICHARD: Russia used to be a wonderful country before the war.

JACKIE: It must have been.... Was that her?

RICHARD: Who?

JACKIE: Judith Bliss.

RICHARD: Yes, I expect it was.

JACKIE: I wish I’d never come.

RICHARD: You mustn’t worry. They’re a very Bohemian family, I believe.

JACKIE: I wonder if Mr. Bliss knows I’m here.

RICHARD: I wonder.

JACKIE: Couldn’t we ring a bell, or anything?

RICHARD: Yes, perhaps we’d better. (_He finds bell and presses it._)

JACKIE: I don’t suppose it rings.

RICHARD: You mustn’t be depressed.

JACKIE: I feel horrid.

RICHARD: It’s always a little embarrassing coming to a strange house for the first time. You’ll like Sorel—she’s charming.

JACKIE (_desperately_): I wonder where she is.

RICHARD (_consolingly_): I expect tea will be here soon.

JACKIE: Do you think they _have_ tea?

RICHARD (_alarmed_): Oh, yes—they must.

JACKIE: Oh, well, we’d better go on waiting, then. (_She sits down._)

RICHARD: Do you mind if I smoke?

JACKIE: Not a bit.

RICHARD: Will you?

JACKIE: No, thank you.

RICHARD (_sitting down_): I got this case in Japan. It’s pretty, isn’t it?

JACKIE: Awfully pretty.

[_They lapse into hopeless silence._

[_Enter SOREL, down stairs._

SOREL: Oh, Richard, I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t know you were here.

RICHARD: We’ve been here a good while.

SOREL: How awful! Please forgive me. I was upstairs.

RICHARD: This is Miss Coryton.

SOREL: Oh!

JACKIE: How-do-you-do.

SOREL: Have you come to see Father?

JACKIE: Yes.

SOREL: He’s in his study—you’d better go up.

JACKIE: I don’t know the way.

SOREL (_irritably_): Oh, well—I’ll take you. Come on. Wait a minute, Richard. (_She takes her to the top of the stairs._) It’s along that passage, and the third door on the right.

JACKIE: Oh, thank you. (_She goes out despondently._)

SOREL (_coming down again_): The poor girl looks half-witted.

RICHARD: She’s shy, I think.

SOREL: I hope Father will find her a comfort.

RICHARD: Tell me one thing, Sorel, did your Father and Mother know I was coming?

SOREL: Oh, yes; they were awfully pleased.

RICHARD: A rather nice-looking woman came down, in a big hat, and went into the garden with a young man, without saying a word.

SOREL: That was Mother, I expect. We’re an independent family—we entertain our friends sort of separately.

RICHARD: Oh, I see.

SOREL: It was sweet of you to come.

RICHARD: I wanted to come—I’ve thought about you a lot.

SOREL: Have you really? That’s thrilling.

RICHARD: I mean it. You’re so alive and vital and different from other people.

SOREL: I’m so frightened that you’ll be bored here.

RICHARD: Why should I be?

SOREL: Oh, I don’t know. But you won’t be, will you?—or if you are, tell me at once, and we’ll do something quite different.

RICHARD: You’re rather a dear, you know.

SOREL: I’m not—I’m devastating, entirely lacking in restraint. So’s Simon. It’s Father’s and Mother’s fault really; you see, they’re so vague—they’ve spent their lives cultivating their Arts and not devoting any time to ordinary conventions and manners and things. I’m the only one who sees that, so I’m trying to be better. I’d love to be beautifully poised and carry off difficult situations with a lift of the eyebrows——

RICHARD: I’m sure you could carry off anything.

SOREL: There you are, you see, saying the right thing! You always say the right thing, and no one knows a bit what you’re really thinking. That’s what I adore.

RICHARD: I’m afraid to say anything now, in case you think I’m only being correct.

SOREL: But you are correct. I wish you’d teach Simon to be correct too.

RICHARD: It would be uphill work, I’m afraid.

SOREL: Why, don’t you like him?

RICHARD: I’ve only met him for a moment.

SOREL: Would you like to see the garden?

RICHARD: Very much indeed.

SOREL: As a matter of fact, we’d better wait until after tea. Shall I sing you something?

RICHARD: Please—I should love it.

SOREL: I don’t want to really a bit—only I’m trying to entertain you. It’s as easy as pie to talk in someone else’s house, like at the dance the other night, but here on my own ground I’m finding it difficult.

RICHARD (_puzzled_): I’m sorry.

SOREL: Oh, it isn’t your fault; honestly, it isn’t—you’re awfully kind and responsive. What shall we do?

RICHARD: I’m quite happy talking—to you.

SOREL: Can you play Mah Jong?

RICHARD: No, I’m afraid I can’t.

SOREL: I’m _so_ glad—I _do_ hate it so.

[_CLARA enters, with preparations for tea. SOREL sighs with relief._

Here’s tea.

CLARA: Where’s your Mother, dear?

SOREL: Out in the garden, I think.

CLARA: It’s starting to rain.

SOREL: Oh, everyone will come dashing in, then. How awful!

RICHARD: Won’t the luggage get rather wet, out there?

SOREL: What luggage?

CLARA: I’ll bring it in when I’ve made the tea.

RICHARD (_rising_): Oh, don’t trouble; I’ll do it now.

SOREL: We ought to have got William up from the village.

CLARA: It’s Saturday.

SOREL: I know it is.

CLARA: He’s playing cricket.

[_RICHARD opens the front door and proceeds to bring the luggage in. SOREL rushes to help him._

SOREL: Do sit down and smoke. I can easily manage it.

RICHARD: Certainly not.

SOREL: How typical of Myra to have so many bags.... Ooh!

[_She staggers with a suit-case. RICHARD goes to her assistance, and they both drop it._

There now!—we’ve probably broken something.

RICHARD: This is the last one.... (_He brings in a dressing-case, and wipes his hand on his handkerchief._)

SOREL: Do you know where to wash if you want to?

RICHARD: No—but I’m all right.

[_Re-enter CLARA, with tea and hot-water jug._

[_SIMON and MYRA come in from the garden._

MYRA: Hullo, Sorel, how are you?

SOREL: I’m splendid. Do you know Mr. Greatham?

MYRA: Oh, yes; we’ve met several times.

SIMON: Come and sit down, Myra.

[_DAVID and JACKIE come downstairs._

DAVID: Is tea ready?

SOREL: Yes; just.

DAVID: Simon, come and be nice to Miss Coryton.

SIMON: We’ve met already.

DAVID: That’s no reason for you not to be nice to her.

MYRA (_firmly_): How-do-you-do.

DAVID: How-do-you-do. Are you staying here?

MYRA: I hope so.

DAVID: You must forgive me for being rather frowsy, but I’ve been working hard.

SOREL: Father, this is Mr. Greatham.

DAVID: How are you? When did you arrive?

RICHARD: This afternoon.

DAVID: Good. Have some tea. (_He begins to pour it out._) Everyone had better put their own sugar and milk in, or we shall get muddled. Where’s your mother, Simon?

SIMON: She was last seen in the punt.

DAVID: How extraordinary! She can’t punt.

SOREL: Sandy Tyrell’s with her.

DAVID: Oh, well, she’ll be all right then. Who is he?

SOREL: I don’t know.

DAVID: Do sit down, everybody.

[_Enter JUDITH and SANDY from the garden._

JUDITH: There’s going to be a thunderstorm. I felt sick this morning. This is Sandy Tyrell—Everybody——

RICHARD (_shaking hands_): How-do-you-do.

SOREL: Mother, I want you to meet Mr. Greatham.

JUDITH: Oh, yes. You were here before, weren’t you?

SIMON: Before _what_, darling?

JUDITH: Before I went out in the punt. There was somebody else here too—a fair girl——(_She sees JACKIE._) Oh, there you are. How-do-you-do. Sit down, Sandy, and eat anything you want. Give Sandy some bread-and-butter, Simon.

[_Everybody sits down._

SIMON (_ungraciously_): Here you are.

SANDY: Thanks.

[_There is a long pause; then MYRA and RICHARD speak together._

RICHARD: } How far are you from Maidenhead exactly? MYRA: } What a pity it’s raining—we might have had some tennis——

[_They both stop, to let the other go on. There is another terrible silence._

MYRA: } I adore the shape of this hall—it’s so—— RICHARD: } The train was awfully crowded coming down——

[_They both stop again, and there is another dead silence, during which_

THE CURTAIN SLOWLY FALLS.

ACT II

ACT II

_It is after dinner on the Saturday evening._

[_Everyone is talking and arguing._

[_The following scene should be played with great speed._

SIMON: Who’ll go out?

SOREL: I don’t mind.

SIMON: No; you always guess it too quickly.

JACKIE: What do we have to do?

JUDITH: Choose an adverb, and then——

SIMON: Someone goes out, you see, and comes in, and you’ve chosen a word among yourselves, and she or he or whoever it is asks you some sort of question and you have to——