Arabella (curtsying)
Not a thing, sir.
(Exit Arabella.)
Bramble Again—hey, I beg you, Lucy, ease me of my uncertainty. Why the mourning?
Lucy
For a costume party.
(Exit Lucy.)
Bramble And you, Tuneless—won't you explain to me what I already begin to suspect. If it were the Countess who was dead, then everybody would be in mourning—right? My dear Tuneless, hide nothing from me. You are my only confidant—
Tuneless
Well, but— (aside) What the devil am I going to say?
Bramble
What ought I to think in seeing all this?
Tuneless In seeing all this black clothing, you ought to think they are dressed in black.
Bramble
Hmm! I doubt—