SIR GEOFFREY. Yes. Well, I thought I was cured. I've been here five days, and I find I am not. So I go. That's best, isn't it?
LADY TORMINSTER. Yes.
SIR GEOFFREY. It's so infernally stupid. You're a beautiful woman, of course; but there are heaps of beautiful women. You've qualities—well, so have other women, too. I'm only forty-one—and, as you say, why don't I marry? Simply because of you. Because you've an uncomfortable knack of intruding between me and the other lady.
LADY TORMINSTER. That is a great misfortune.
SIR GEOFFREY. It's most annoying. So I shall try China. I shall come back in two years—I shall be forty-three then—I shall come back, sound as a bell; and I shall marry some healthy, pink-cheeked young woman, take a house next to yours, and in the fulness of time your eldest son shall fall in love with my daughter.
LADY TORMINSTER. Why not?
SIR GEOFFREY. I shouldn't have told you, of course; but I'm glad that I have. It clears the air. Now what excuse shall I make?
LADY TORMINSTER. A wire from town?
SIR GEOFFREY. Jack knows all about my affairs; in fact, that's why I take the early train, to avoid his questions.
LADY TORMINSTER. You find it impossible to stay out your time here?