Margaret. (getting on Sir J.'s L.) There can be no wind when you are near me, and no rain can come through the roof of our love!
Sir J. (throwing up his hands in despair) Oh, no more at present, please!
Margaret. (laying a hand on his arm) You'll speak to Everard?
Sir J. Why on earth should I?
Margaret. Joseph! Shall we let the poor boy throw himself away on—
Sir J. (R. C. laughing hysterically) Ha, ha! Oh, that's very good! Throw himself away on—Lady Claude!
Margaret. (C.) (offended) You think it's impossible? But I tell you I've seen—
Sir J. My child, we've talked nonsense enough for one morning. Let's go. (takes her hand and is about to lead her away R. Mollentrave comes in breezily up L. C.) Ah, there's Mollentrave. I must have a word with him. Run on to the house—I'll follow. (giving her the basket)
Margaret. (fondly R.) Come soon, dear one—come soon. When my eyes do not rest on you they grow tired with waiting!