CROCKSTEAD. [Looking hard at her.] Didn't you know? [ALINE turns aside, embarrassed.] That's right—of course you did. Don't you know why I have brought you here? That's right; of course you do. The Duchess, your aunt, and the Marchioness, your mother—observe how fondly my tongue trips out the titles—smiled sweetly on us as we left the ball-room. There will be a notice in the Morning Post to-morrow: "A Marriage Has Been Arranged Between—"
ALINE. [Bewildered and offended.] Mr. Crockstead! This—this is—
CROCKSTEAD. [Always in the same quiet tone.] Because I have not yet proposed, you mean? Of course I intend to, Lady Aline. Only as I know that you will accept me—
ALINE. [In icy tones, as she rises.] Let us go back to the ball-room.
CROCKSTEAD. [Quite undisturbed.] Oh, please! That won't help us, you know. Do sit down. I assure you I have never proposed before, so that naturally I am a trifle nervous. Of course I know that we are only supers really, without much of a speaking part; but the spirit moves me to gag, in the absence of the stage-manager, who is, let us say, the Duchess—
ALINE. I have heard of the New Humour, Mr. Crockstead, though I confess I have never understood it. This may be an exquisite example—
CROCKSTEAD. By no means. I am merely trying to do the right thing, though perhaps not the conventional one. Before making you the formal offer of my hand and fortune, which amounts to a little over three millions—
ALINE. [Fanning herself.] How people exaggerate! Between six and seven, I heard.
CROCKSTEAD. Only three at present, but we must be patient. Before throwing myself at your feet, metaphorically, I am anxious that you should know something of the man whom you are about to marry.
ALINE. That is really most considerate!