Fletcher. Certainly— [All go but Marion.] Excuse me one moment, Miss Wolton,—Rhodes wants a word with me. [Marion starts slightly, and, turning quickly, looks questioningly at Douglas. He answers her gaze seriously and unflinchingly. She turns to Fletcher.
Marion. [To Fletcher.] No—I won't excuse you. [Assuming a more or less coquettish air.] You must come with me at once. [Fletcher looks surprised, but moves as if to obey her.
Douglas. But why won't you trust Mr. Fletcher with me? [Fletcher laughs amused.
Marion. [Nonplussed for a moment; then she changes her mind.] I was only jesting. [To Fletcher.] But you won't— [To Douglas, looking at him meaningly and seriously.] —keep us waiting long, will you? I warn you, Mr. Fletcher, I shall let them begin without us. [Exits through ball-room as Fletcher quickly kisses her hand. Douglas waits till they are quite alone. Fletcher moves down right.
Douglas. [Following. Quietly.] Are you going to ask Miss Wolton to marry you?
Fletcher. I am not.
Douglas. [Momentary surprise—doubt, then relief—a sigh.] In that case I've nothing more to say; let's join the others. [Both make a move to go.
Fletcher. [Who cannot resist saying it.] You see, Rhodes, I have asked her already.
Douglas. [Stops and, turning, faces Fletcher, whose back is toward audience.]
Fletcher. [Turning leisurely.] About fifteen minutes ago—but I can't see what business it is of yours.