Lady Euphemia Vibart.
Imogen.
It’s true. Every hour of the livelong day Aunt Dora has goaded me on to this desirable, detestable match; even at night she has stalked into my room with a lighted candle, startling me out of my beauty sleep, to tell me she will never rest till I am Lady Macphail.
Lady Euphemia Vibart.
Imogen, it’s too kind of mamma to take this interest in you.
Imogen.
Interest! It’s torture. And at last she threatened that if I married anybody else she would expire in great pain and appear to me constantly, a ghost, in her night-gown. Well, you’ve seen Aunt Dora in her night-gown—you can guess my feelings.
Lady Euphemia Vibart.
And that decided you.