Sir J. (slowly) Everard has fallen—in love—with you?
Lady C. Yes! Imagine it! A catastrophe!
Sir J. (dully, down R. C. and sitting) Very awkward. Very.
Lady C. (C.) How could one conceive it! I've been sympathetic—that's all! Talked about Margaret! Oh, I assure you, I've done nothing but talk about Margaret!
Sir J. There's something odd about boys and girls nowadays. But, of course, it's all Mollentrave—(he clenches his fist)
Lady C. What must I do? Tell me—advise me!
Sir J. You haven't accepted him?
Lady C. (indignantly) Sir Joseph!
Sir J. You see, things are just a trifle topsy-turvy. My—bride—grows more and more devoted.