Sir J. (looking up eagerly) Lord Contareen?
Mollen. Ah, didn't you know? He and my daughter—(Margaret calls "Joseph" and comes in with the "Times" in her hand.) Pardon me—there's the girl. I'll send her away—I have to give you further instructions. Wait here—I shan't be a moment.
(He goes quickly to Margaret off R. 3 E., and walks her off, talking eagerly to her.)
Sir J. (across to L. C., sitting) (excitedly.) What is this about Lord Contareen?
Lady C. A foolish creature, whom Papa wishes me to marry.
Sir J. (aghast) Marry! What, what! Marry—you!
Lady C. Yes. And he thinks—
Sir J. Rosamund! Is there a man in the world whom you can marry—but me!
Lady C. Sir Joseph! You said just now—