[Ruefully.] Ah, I'm afraid that's too much to look forward to.
Sylvia.
[Touching his arm with a little gesture of sympathy.] You poor dear! You're not beginning to be nervous about your dinner, are you?
Horace.
N—no. Not nervous exactly. Something might go wrong. Still, I hope there won't be much your father can find fault with.
Sylvia.
I'm sure there won't! And if he does, why, we won't mind, will we? We shall be together, you know!
Horace.
[Putting his arm round her.] That's what I've been thinking of all day!
[He kisses her as Pringle returns, unseen by them. His jaw drops as he sees them together.