Not a word.
Leonard.
That made it all the easier. Three glasses did it. Two chums of mine went up to him and clapped him on the back. “Can we congratulate you?” “Not yet.” “Oh, but it’s all settled beforehand. Your uncle——” And then—“drink, pretty creature, drink!” When I was on my way here this morning, he was standing by the river looking gloomily over the parapet of the bridge. I grinned and nodded, and asked him whether he’d dropped anything into the water. “Yes,” said he, without looking up, “and perhaps it’s as well for me to jump in after it.”
Clara.
You wretch! Get out of my sight!
Leonard.
Yes? (Pretending to go.)
Clara.
O my God, and I am chained to this man!
Leonard.