AGATHA. Crichton, I think you might have shown more displeasure with her.
CRICHTON (contrite). I was touched, my lady. I see, my lady, that to part from her would be a wrench to me, though I could not well say so in her presence, not having yet decided how far I shall go with her.
(He is about to go when LORD LOAM returns, fuming.)
LORD LOAM. The ingrate! The smug! The fop!
CATHERINE. What is it now, father?
LORD LOAM. That man of mine, Rolleston, refuses to accompany us because you are to have but one maid.
AGATHA. Hurrah!
LADY MARY (in better taste). Darling father, rather than you should lose Rolleston, we will consent to take all the three of them.
LORD LOAM. Pooh, nonsense! Crichton, find me a valet who can do without three maids.
CRICHTON. Yes, my lord. (Troubled.) In the time—the more suitable the party, my lord, the less willing will he be to come without the—the usual perquisites.