[The gate bell is heard again, the girls re-enter.
Georgiana.
There’s a visitor. I’ll tootle upstairs and have a groom down. [To Salome and Sheba.] Make the running, girls. At what time do we feed, Augustin?
The Dean.
There is luncheon at one o’clock.
Georgiana.
Right. The air here is so fresh I sha’n’t be sorry to get my nose-bag on.
[She stalks out, accompanied by the girls.
The Dean.
My sister, Georgiana—my widowed sister, Georgiana. Dear me, I am quite disturbed. Surely, surely the serene atmosphere of the Deanery will work a change. It must! It must! If not, what a grave mistake I have made. Good gracious! No, no, I won’t think of it! Still, it is a little unfortunate that poor Georgiana should arrive here on the very eve of these terrible races at St. Marvells.