COMTESSE. If there is not, there is probably a lady waiting for him, somewhere in a boiler.
SYBIL. I dare say.
[MAGGIE descends.]
MAGGIE. Mr. Shand will be down directly.
COMTESSE. Thank you. Your brother has been giving us such an interesting account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said that he was married.
MAGGIE. No, he’s not married; but he will be soon.
COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.] A friend of yours?
MAGGIE [now a scorner of herself]. I don’t think much of her.
COMTESSE. In that case, tell me all about her.
MAGGIE. There’s not much to tell. She’s common, and stupid. One of those who go in for self-culture; and then when the test comes they break down. [With sinister enjoyment] She’ll be the ruin of him.