Ralph. Confound it, I cannot bear it any longer. This wandering around, nursing my wrath, is becoming unendurable. After having won her love, to be snatched from me by that infernal Maitland—curse him!—and all through that she-devil, Hilda—curse them both! Oh! I could tear them to pieces!
Enter Henry, R. 1 E., in officer’s uniform with paper in hand. Ralph turns away.
Hen. [Aside.] Ralph Murdell! I never liked the looks of that man. [To Ralph.] Hello! Lost your tongue? [R. C.]
Ralph. [C.] No! but I lost something else!
Hen. Lost a love, perhaps?
Ralph. No! I’ve lost my temper!
Hen. [Aside.] Was spooney on Adrienne! [To Ralph.] Well, I’m glad you lost it!
Ralph. Glad I lost what?
Hen. Your temper.
Ralph. Oh! I didn’t understand.