Mollen. (chuckling) Ah, he did, did he? At our age, you see, a man's in a hurry—eh, Balsted? Well, you're all coming with us to Swanage to-morrow—
Marg. (surprised) Swanage?
Mollen. Yes—we've arranged with Sir Joseph. He didn't tell you? Very remiss, of course—very remiss. He's a trifle dictatorial, I'm afraid—but you mustn't mind that—you mustn't mind that!
Sir J. (trying in vain to get hold of Mollentrave) Mollentrave, I want—
(Sir J. goes up R. to L. of Lady C., who rises)
Mollen. (to Margaret) When you marry a distinguished—and elderly man, my dear, you must of course put up with a few little drawbacks. May must be content with November's—ivy! Eh?
Marg. (rising and away R. to sofa and sitting) Oh, but he's not so very elderly—
Mollen. (following her to R.) Oh no, I married a much older last week! I'll show you his photograph. (shows photograph)
(He draws close to Margaret and whispers merrily to her, Sir Joseph goes to Lady Claude.)
Sir J. (L.) He has done it! I can't retreat now! It's impossible!