Drummle.
Angry! [Rising.] Because you considerately withhold the name of a lady with whom it is now the object of my life to become acquainted? My dear fellow, you pique my curiosity, you give zest to my existence! And as for a wedding, who on earth wants to attend that familiar and probably draughty function? Ugh! My cigar's out.
Aubrey.
Let's talk about something else.
Misquith.
[Looking at his watch.] Not to-night, Aubrey.
Aubrey.
My dear Frank!
Misquith.
I go up to Scotland to-morrow, and there are some little matters——