The Dean.
[Recoiling.] You too! You too drawn into the vortex! Is there no conscience that is clear—is there no guilessness left in this house, with the possible exception of my own!
Sheba.
[Sobbing.] We always knew a little more than you gave us credit for, Papa.
The Dean.
[Handing Sheba the bill.] Take this horrid thing—never let it meet my eyes again. As for the scandalous costumes, they shall be raffled for in aid of local charities. Confidence, that precious pearl in the snug shell of domesticity, is at an end between us. I chastise you both by permanently withholding from you the reason of my absence from home last night. Go!
[The girls totter out as Sir Tristram enters quickly at the window, followed by Georgiana, carrying the basin containing the bolus. Sir Tristram has an opened letter in his hand.
Sir Tristram.
Good heavens, Jedd! the analysis has arrived!