GENTLEMAN (aside). It’s no use. I won’t try any more! (Aloud, and in a more colloquial tone.) Besides, in a stage-coach there was always the chance of one of those little adventures that so often happened on the road!
LADY. You mean attacks by highwaymen, such as your friend Mr.—Turpin—who had a weakness for putting respectable old ladies on the kitchen fire? (smiling satirically—then, changing her tone). I remember myself a certain event which happened some five or six years ago when we were travelling.
GENTLEMAN. We? You and your pa and ma, probably?
LADY. My husband and I!
GENTLEMAN. Husband? you are married, ma’am! actually, positively married?
LADY. Alas, sir! (sighing).
GENTLEMAN (aside). I see! an unhappy union!—an ill-assorted match—poor soul! (Aloud.) Ah, madam, you are not the only one of your too confiding sex who have found marriage a bed of roses—I mean, of nettles, instead of one of nettles—I mean roses!
LADY. But, sir—you mistake—alas, sir, I am a widow!
GENTLEMAN. A widow? I’m delighted to hear it! No, I’m not! of course not! I deeply sympathize with you—as I always do with widows—I know what it is myself. But you mustn’t give way—you’ll get used to it in time—like the eels—no, not like the eels—but you were about to mention some adventure which happened to you while travelling with—the late lamented. (Noise heard of train gradually stopping—engine, railway-bell, whistle, etc.)
VOICE (outside, gradually approaching). “Slough! Slough! change for Windsor; all tickets ready.”