Imogen.
Oh, that person!
[Imogen snatches up the box of playthings and hurries out. Mrs. Gaylustre enters. Probyn retires.]
Mrs. Gaylustre.
[To everybody.] How d’ye do? How d’ye do? Lord Drumdurris, charmed to see you. How are you, Brooke?
Brooke Twombley.
[To himself.] Brooke! Impudence!
Mrs. Gaylustre.
You look bilious, Kate.
[She kisses Lady Twombley, who sinks on to the settee.]