ST. OLPHERTS. Now, Mr. Winterfield—!
AMOS. Good heavens! Duke—forgive me for my roughness—you appear to be fouling your hands, all of you, with some relish!
ST. OLPHERTS. I must trouble you to address remarks of that nature to Sir Sandford Cleeve. I am no longer a prime mover in the affair. I am simply standing by.
AMOS. But how can you "stand by"?
ST. OLPHERTS. Confound it, sir, if you will trouble yourself to rescue people, there is a man to be rescued here as well as a woman; a man, by the way, who is a—a sort of relative of mine.
AMOS. The woman first!
ST. OLPHERTS. Not always. You can rescue this woman in a few weeks' time; it can make no difference.
AMOS. [Indignantly.] Ah—!
ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, you are angry!
AMOS. I beg your pardon. One word. I assure your Grace that I truly believe this wretched woman is at a fatal crisis in her life. I believe that if I lose her now there is every chance of her slipping back into a misery and despair out of which it will be impossible to drag her. Oh, I'll be perfectly open with you. At this moment we—my sister and I—are not perfectly sure of her. Her affection for this man may still induce her to sacrifice herself utterly for him; she is still in danger of falling to the lowest depth a woman can attain. Come, Duke, don't help these people. And don't "stand by!" Help me and my sister. For God's sake!