Lady Filson.
I've told him.
Bertram.
My dear father, I cannot—I cannot profess to regret my sister's decision. I mean to say——!
Sir Randle.
[Suddenly.] Nor I. [In an outburst, pacing the room.] Nor I. I must be candid. It's my nature to be candid. A damned tradesman!
Bertram.
Exactly. It shows my sister's delicacy and refinement, I mean t'say.
Sir Randle.
[To Lady Filson, halting.] Who, in your opinion, Winnie——?