Most. [Coming to Sir Timothy, feelingly.] Oh—oh, Sir Timothy——!
Sir Timothy.
[With sudden bitterness.] Ah, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy! And what's the use of my baronetcy now, will you inform me—the baronetcy I bought and paid for, in hard cash, to better my footing in society? The mockery of it! Now that I've lost her, the one woman I shall ever love, I don't care a rap for my footing in society; [walking away] and anybody may have my baronetcy for tuppence!
Sir Randle.
[Reprovingly.] My good friend——!
Sir Timothy.
[Turning to Sir Randle and Lady Filson.] And why not! The only advantage of my baronetcy, it strikes me, is that I'm charged double prices at every hotel I lay my head in, and am expected to shower gold on the waiters. [Sitting on the settee on the right and leaning his head on his hand.] Oh, the mockery of it; the mockery of it!
Sir Randle.
[Going to him.] If my profound sympathy—and Lady Filson's—[to Lady Filson] I may speak for you, Winnie——?
Lady Filson.