Culch. If she happens to prefer my society to yours and her brother's, I presume you have no claim to interfere.
Podb. I don't know about that. How about Miss Trotter?
Culch. If I remember rightly, you yourself were not insensible to Miss Trotter's—er—attractions?
Podb. Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to her—you are. You told me so in the train.
Culch. You entirely misunderstood me. There was no definite understanding between us—nothing of the sort or kind. In fact, it was merely a passing caprice. Since I have had the privilege of knowing Miss Prendergast, I see clearly——
Podb. Then you mean to propose to her, eh?
Culch. That is certainly my intention; have you any objection to offer?
Podb. Only that I mean to propose too. I dare say my chances are as good as yours—even now.
Culch. I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let me discourage you.
Podb. I don't intend to. (The figure of Miss Prendergast is seen to pass the glazed doors, and move slowly across the Musik-saal; both rush to the door, and look after her.) She's gone out into the balcony. 'Jove, I'll go too, and get it over!