Mrs. C. Ah, Towzer seems to have found the way out.
Charles. I wish I could. (Dog barks.)
Dolby (outside). Help! murder! help! (Comes tumbling in through the window on to lounge; rolls on to floor.) Confound that dog! (gets up rubbing his knees.)
Charles. What luck, Dolby. Did you get a bite?
Dolby. Yes; two of them; and if my legs hadn’t done good service, that confounded dog would have made a meal of me (still rubbing his knees, not looking up. Mrs. Cleverly, down R.).
Charles. Sorry, Dolby, you didn’t have better luck. (Aside) Now to test my wife (steps C.). Allow me to present you to my wife. Mrs. Cleverly, my friend Dixon Dolby. Dixie, this is the lady you have longed to meet.
Dolby (comes down L.; looks across). Rosa Bean! Good gracious!
Charles. No, no. My poor friend, you are growing crazy with your absurd phantom, Rosa Bean.
Dolby. Good gracious, it’s her! And I—I—unhappy wretch!—am in love with Charley’s wife! What will become of me? I shall be found out (wipes face with handkerchief).
Mrs. C. I hope you are enjoying your day’s sport, Mr. Dolby.