Mrs. Gaylustre.
[Holding out her hand to him.] Colin.
Macphail.
I’m thinking mother will be wondering——
Mrs. Gaylustre.
[To herself.] Drat your moth—— [To Macphail.] Never mind dear Lady Macphail for a moment. Colin, since you have discovered my love for you I will make no further reservation——
Macphail.
But mother——
Mrs. Gaylustre.
[Under her breath.] Drat your—— [To Macphail.] Colin, I will be to you the wife you have described.