Dexter. (rising) Shall I go now, sir?
Mollen. Yes, Dexter. You understand that I take you down with me to Swanage to-morrow?
Dexter. Yes, sir—certainly, good-day, sir.
Mollen. Good-day to you.
(Dexter goes up L. Mollentrave turns to Contareen.)
(Up R. C.) It's wrong, my dear fellow—it's wrong! To-day's Friday—she refused you on Wednesday. Too soon!
Contareen. (eagerly) Mollentrave—I—(down R. C.)
Mollen. (emphatically, down C.) I have promised that you shall marry my daughter. I have assured you that I have no doubt whatever as to her affection. Then why this—precipitancy?
Contareen. She refused me very decidedly. (sits on settee R.)