Frayne.

Well, six months pass quickly—everywhere but on the West Coast of Africa.

Quex.

And then—you shall be my best man, Chick, if you're still home.

Frayne.

[Rising.] Hah! I never thought—

Quex.

[Rising.] No; I who always laughed at marriage as a dull depravity permitted to the respectable classes! I who always maintained that man's whole duty to woman—meaning his mistresses—that a man's duty to a woman is liberally discharged when he has made a settlement on her, or stuck her into his will! [Blowing the ideas from him.] Phugh!

[He goes to the little table, and examines the objects upon it.

Frayne.