Done, sir, done? You ask that, after grossly insulting my wife and daughter by this—this outrageous exhibition!
[He goes up, followed by Pringle.
Horace.
[Going to Mrs. Futvoye.] Mrs. Futvoye, you don't misunderstand me, I'm sure?
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Icily.] For once, I entirely agree with my husband, and I believe Sylvia herself will tell you——
[She turns, and joins the Professor on the left.
Horace.
No, she won't? Will you, Sylvia? You won't give me up?
Sylvia.