Sylvia.
I think I would rather stay at home this evening, mother.
[Pringle tries to persuade her in by-play.
Professor Futvoye.
[Rising.] We'll come, Pringle, we'll come. [To Fakrash, who is still standing by the window.] Now then, sir, you've got all you came for—what are you waiting for?
Fakrash.
To receive thy thanks.
Professor Futvoye.
What? For exposing me to all this humiliation! You'll get no thanks from me, sir—and the sooner you and your accomplice relieve this house of your presence the better!
Fakrash.