SYBIL [foreseeing another horrible Scotch scene]. To say good-bye?
COMTESSE [thrilling with expectation]. To whom, Maggie?
SYBIL [deserted by the impediment, which is probably playing with rough boys in the Lovers’ Lane]. Auntie, do leave us, won’t you?
COMTESSE. Not I. It is becoming far too interesting.
MAGGIE. I suppose there’s no reason the Comtesse shouldn’t be told, as she will know so soon at any rate?
JOHN. That’s so. [SYBIL sees with discomfort that he is to be practical also.]
MAGGIE. It’s so simple. You see, Comtesse, John and Lady Sybil have fallen in love with one another, and they are to go off as soon as the meeting at Leeds has taken place.
[The COMTESSE’s breast is too suddenly introduced to Caledonia and its varied charms.]
COMTESSE. Mon Dieu!
MAGGIE. I think that’s putting it correctly, John.