[And what should Columbine be like? Well, she is just like what you'd most like her to be. She has a rose in her hand. She stops as she sees her husband, then shyly puts out her arms to him, but he cannot see that, for his back is turned. She creeps up to him and drops the rose on his book. He brushes the rose away and waves her away too.
He's not really angry, but you see he's married to her, and he can't bear being interrupted.
[Columbine stands looking--deliberately looking her prettiest; wistful, appealing.
I think that's been her mistake. If she'd ...
Uncle Edward.. Sh!
Alice.. Sorry!
[Mechanically he has put the rose in the book for a marker, and is moving away. But now we see--or if we don't see, we hear in the music--the Man of the World on his way.
The Man of the World. I told you!
[Such a man of the world! But when you can dress in vermilion and purple and gold and wear the biggest cloak and the largest sword that ever was and twist your moustache as outrageously as you please, what's easier than to fascinate such a child as Columbine? She curtseys to him as he bows to her. She beckons to her husband to join them. But he, lost now in the landscape, now in his reopened book, waves only a distant greeting, and will not budge. The Man of the World smiles a most worldly smile, and soon he and pretty Columbine are strolling towards the house; she looking down at the flagged walk and the flowers that border it, he looking down at her, with eyes too greedy to be kind.
What a pity, isn't it?