Lady C. Do you think I will marry Everard?
Sir J. (helplessly sit R. C.) I don't know—I don't think at all. Mollentrave does the thinking—Mollentrave!
(Mollentrave bustles in, beaming, R. 3 E.)
Mollen. (C.) (looking wonderingly from one to the other) Dear me, why this air of depression?
Lady C. (both rise and up to knoll) Depression! Papa! Have you seen Everard?
Mollen. (C.) I have, this very moment.
| Sir J. | (excitedly) Well? Well? |
| Lady C. |
Mollen. (looking from one to the other) Rosamund! Balsted! You surely wouldn't have me believe that you are not pleased?
Sir J. (amazed) Pleased!
Mollen. (emphatically) Yes, sir, I say pleased—at this magnificent development of my scheme!