Everard. (shyly) When we played chess last Thursday, she allowed her hand to rest on mine for the appreciable fraction of a second—
Sir J. (triumphantly) You see! Mollentrave on Women—the text-book on the subject—would, I am sure, interpret that as encouragement.
Everard. Uncle! Don't tell me that you think—(he rushes wildly about the room)
Sir J. But I do, I do! What's more, I am convinced! Come, my boy, sit down. (Everard down R. back to C. Sir J. seizes him and sits him R. C.) and don't pace the room like an undischarged bankrupt. (sits C.) Let us discuss the matter.
Everard. Margaret to be mine!
Sir J. Again I say, why not? I shall buy you a practice as a wedding-present, and—as they say in the fairy-stories, you will live happily ever after. Do you authorize me to—sound the lady?
(Everard rises and away R.)
(Mollentrave comes bustling into the room L. 3 E.)
Sir J. (rise C.—going eagerly to him and whispering into his ear) Splendid, Mollentrave, splendid! (aloud) Let me introduce my nephew, Mr. Everard Swenboys. Everard, this is an old friend of mine—whom we can admit to our fullest confidence. (down C.) Mollentrave—my nephew has just confessed to me that he loves my ward!