Imogen.
We didn’t buy him, mamma—we met him. You mean Cousin Valentine.
Lady Twombley.
[Looking round.] Of course—Valentine. Where is he? [Calling.] Valentine!
[Valentine enters very plainly dressed.]
Sir Julian Twombley.
Mr. White! [Bowing stiffly.] How do you do?
Brooke Twombley.
Why, Val! What?
Lady Twombley.