Culch. All I am driving at is this: Couldn't we two—er—agree to effect a reconciliation between the two ladies? So much pleasanter for—er—all parties!
Bob. I dare say. But how are you going to set about it? I can't begin.
Culch. Couldn't you induce your sister to lay aside her—er—prejudice against me? Then I could easily——
Bob. Very likely—but I couldn't. I never interfere in my sister's affairs, and, to tell you the honest truth, I don't feel particularly inclined to make a beginning on your account. [Strolls away.
Culch. (to himself). What a surly boor it is! But I don't care—I'll do him a good turn, in spite of himself! (Miss T. returns.) Do you know, I've just been having a chat with poor young Prendergast. He seems quite cut up at being forced to side with his sister. I undertook to—er—intercede for him. Now is it quite fair, or like your—er—usual good-nature, to visit his sister's offences—whatever they are—on him? I—I only put it to you.
Miss T. Well, to think now! I guess you're about the most unselfish saint on two legs! Now some folks would have felt jealous.
Culch. Possibly—but I cannot accuse myself of such a failing as that.
Miss T. I'd just like to hear you accuse yourself of any failing! I don't see however you manage to act so magnanimous and live. I told you I wanted to study your character, and I believe it isn't going to take me vurry much longer to make up my mind about you. You don't suppose I'll have any time for Mr. Prendergast after getting such a glimpse into your nature? There, help me into the gondola, and don't talk any more about it. Tell him to go to Salviate's right away.
Culch. (dejectedly to himself). I've bungled it! I might have known I should only make matters worse!
On the Piazzetta; it is moonlight, the Campanile and dome of San Giorgio Maggiore are silhouetted sharp and black against the steel-blue sky across a sea of silver ripples. Podbury and Culchard are pacing slowly arm-in-arm between the two columns.