O'Dwyer.
[Rising and going to Tom.] Now, hadn't ye better make that six-and-twenty?
Imogen.
[Joining them, with asperity.] Why? why?
Tom.
No, no, certainly not. Go on.
Imogen.
[Angrily.] Not till Mr. O'Dwyer retires into his corner.
Tom.
O'Dwyer.——[O'Dwyer takes his chair, and retires to the "prompt-corner," out of sight, with the air of martyrdom. Tom addresses Rose.] You speak.