Horace.
I—I was going to explain about that. It's a most extraordinary thing, but—well, you remember that old brass bottle I showed you this afternoon?
Professor Futvoye.
Remember it? Of course I remember it! But what of it, sir, what of it?
Horace.
Why—er—in a manner of speaking—everything you see here has—er—more or less—come out of that bottle——
Professor Futvoye.
[Infuriated.] That is enough, sir, that is enough! You choose to give me a frivolous answer! I will not submit to be treated like this—I would rather leave the house at once. And I will, too!
[He makes a movement towards the arch. Sylvia and her mother look on in distress, and Pringle with secret gratification.
Horace.