Lily.
O yes, I will.
[Clasping him round the neck.]
But my head aches so! Will you carry me?
Julian.
Yes, my own darling. Come, we'll get your bonnet.
Lily.
Oh! you've been crying, father. You're so white!
[Putting her finger to his cheek.]
SCENE XI.—A table in a club-room. Several Gentlemen seated round it. To them enter another.
1st Gentleman.
Why, Bernard, you look heated! what's the matter?
Bernard.
Hot work, as looked at; cool enough, as done.
2nd G.
A good antithesis, as usual, Bernard,
But a shell too hard for the vulgar teeth
Of our impatient curiosity.