Sir J. (wheedling, rise and down R. C.) Come, come, Mrs. Martelli, you and I have been together too long to allow a trifle like this to part us. Besides, we're all going off in a day or two—Miss Treable may get married in the Long Vacation—
Mrs. M. Married—she! She'll never see forty again!
Sir J. Won't she, though? Well, after all, that's no concern of mine. I don't want her to see forty again—for the matter of that I don't want to see her again. But she's the girl's companion—and the girl must have a companion—and if the Treable woman goes I shall have to find another companion. That's so, isn't it?
Mrs. Mar. (still adamant) Sir Joseph—
Sir J. And I want to be off to Scotland to-morrow! Come, come, Mrs. Martelli—
Mrs. Mar. Sir Joseph, that person has made use of certain expressions to me that render further residence with her under the same roof impossible. I regret it—for my dear husband's sake, I regret it. But you will have to choose.
(She goes R. I. E. with majesty. Sir Joseph is exceedingly vexed. He pishes and pshaws, seizes his blotting pad, hurls it to the other end of the room, then goes and fetches it—then takes up paper R. and reads, swearing softly to himself. Peters, the butler, enters L. 3 E.)
Peters. (up L. C.) Mr. Mollentrave and Lady Claude Derenham have called, Sir Joseph.
Sir J. (puts paper down eagerly, R. C.) Ah, I'll go down. They're in the drawing-room, I suppose?
Peters. (up L. C.) No, Sir Joseph—Miss Messilent and Miss Treable are playing a duet in the drawing-room—