Marg. Mr. Mollentrave told me that your limbs are rather unsteady—
Sir J. (clenching his fists) Ah, Mollentrave, Mollentrave!!
Marg. (kneeling on his L. She puts his arm on her shoulders, fondly) But have no fear, dear one! You shall lean on me—I shall be your crutch, your support! Oh, the thought of us two in our cottage—just you and I! I dream of it!
Sir J. (growling, taking arm away) No dances—no theatres—not even a visitor—
Marg. Shall I want any of these—when I have—you! You, who have given up all—for my sake—for me!
Sir J. (fidgeting) H'm—but still—I fancy you'll find it dull—
Margaret. I? Never! You don't know me yet—not altogether, I mean. Oh, if you would let me speak to you—about myself—
Sir J. (rise and cross C., throwing lozenge away—fretfully) That theme is barred—by consent. Don't you think you had better go back to the house? Unless you would like to bathe?
Margaret. (rise, firmly) No—you do not bathe—I shall not either. No pleasure in which you cannot join, can henceforth be a pleasure to me!
Sir J. (turning up stage—groaning) Come—we'll go back to Law! (he rises)