Horace.
Well, no. I had the most rotten luck.
Professor Futvoye.
[With relief.] It's just as well you didn't—just as well. I doubt now whether I could afford the money. I find I shall be put to considerable expense—for repairs to my study.
[He turns to Mr. Wackerbath, who is on his right. Sylvia comes down, and Pringle advances to greet her, but, finding she evidently sees no one but Horace, he goes up towards the balcony fuming with rage.
Sylvia.
[To Horace.] Come and sit down somewhere, and tell me everything you've been doing.
[Horace takes her to the sofa by the fireplace, where they sit down and talk in dumb show, while Pringle is now hanging about undecidedly near the flower-stand, waiting his opportunity for addressing Sylvia, and furiously jealous at finding her still too absorbed to notice him; Mrs. Futvoye and Mrs. Wackerbath are talking confidentially on the sofa on the left side of the room, and the Professor and Mr. Wackerbath are standing in the centre.
Mr. Wackerbath.