Isabel (picking up her book). Have you heard from Washington?
Warland. Yes. That’s what I was going to speak of when I asked for Mrs. Raynor. I wanted to bid her good-bye.
Isabel. You’re going?
Warland. By the five train. Fagott has just wired me that the Ambassador will be in Washington on Monday. He hasn’t named his secretaries yet, but there isn’t much hope for me. He has a nephew—
Isabel. They always have. Like the Popes.
Warland. Well, I’m going all the same. You’ll explain to Mrs. Raynor if she gets back before I do? Are there to be people at dinner? I don’t suppose it matters. You can always pick up an extra man on a Saturday.
Isabel. By the way, that reminds me that Marian left me a list of the people who are arriving this afternoon. My novel is so absorbing that I forgot to look at it. Where can it be? Ah, here—Let me see: the Jack Merringtons, Adelaide Clinton, Ned Lender—all from New York, by seven P.M. train. Lewis Darley to-night, by Fall River boat. John Oberville, from Boston at five P.M. Why, I didn’t know—
Warland (excitedly). John Oberville? John Oberville? Here? To-day at five o’clock? Let me see—let me look at the list. Are you sure you’re not mistaken? Why, she never said a word! Why the deuce didn’t you tell me?
Isabel. I didn’t know.
Warland. Oberville—Oberville—!