Lady C. (down C.) How are you, Lord Contareen?
Contareen. (down C.—suddenly smitten with confusion) I'm very well, thank you, Lady Claude—never was better, never was better!
(He looks to Mollentrave away L. a step)
Mollen. (up C. top of table—to Lady Claude) My dear, you will excuse me—I have a line to write to—to—oh yes, to Balsted, of course, about the train to-morrow. We take the 11.20—he may as well join us. Your pardon, Contareen—I shall not be a moment.
(Lady C. puts book away R.)
(Mollentrave goes into the inner room L. U. E. rubbing his hands.)
Contareen. (disconcerted) Balsted! the lawyer fellow!
Lady C. (smiling) The great barrister—yes. He is coming to Swanage.
Contareen. The deuce he is! Old friend of yours, isn't he?
Lady C. (sit R. of C. table, sitting) I have known him a number of years.