Wait till my Brooky—our Brooky—has won some handsome, wealthy girl who is worthy of him. Hold on till Imogen has made a marriage that will make every true mother’s mouth water. Then I’ll settle down with you alone, in a marsh. But don’t sink into obscurity till the end of the year! I can do wonders by Christmas! Give me till then, pa—give me till then!
[She throws her arms round his neck. Imogen’s harp is heard again. Mrs. Gaylustre enters.]
Mrs. Gaylustre.
The wretches! how they ignore me! [Seeing Sir Julian and Lady Twombley.] Ah!
[Hiding herself behind a pillar she listens.]
Sir Julian Twombley.
But—but—but if I desperately cling to public life a little longer I must have money.
Lady Twombley.
Of course—of course you must have money. But, Julian, you must look to me for that.
Sir Julian Twombley.