Bel. Not you?
Fle. On my honour!
Bel. Then I will find out if I go to every flower-shop in London.
Fle. Do, my good fellow, do.
Bel. I will, depend on it. I will not rest until I have discovered the truth. I will know who sent this bouquet. Adieu. I am not a man to be easily imposed on. Can’t humbug me!
[Exit C.
Fle. Now there goes a man determined to make himself miserable. To win Constance from him would be no very difficult task. The day before yesterday I spoke to her, she was not at all coy, and when I took her hand in mine——it is true that this act of sensibility has borne its fruits. Till then her rehearsing was very so so. But since she imagined I was fascinated by her coquetry, she has not rehearsed at all. Love is evidently no friend of mine. Once a man gets his legs entangled in the steel traps of a crinoline it’s all over with him. So I’ll pluck up resolution, and inform this popular lady that I will relieve her from the part. (Writes.) “My dear young lady.” Hum! It is rather difficult to write disagreeably to a woman whose hand you have pressed in yours but two days since. “My dear.” (A rap at door C.) Come in. (Rap repeated.) Come in.
Enter HOLDER with manuscript C.
Hol. (at door) It’s me, sir.
Fle. Oh! good day, Mr. Holder.