LADY F. (aside). Indeed! So, so, husband of mine!—(comes down and taps SIR FELIX on the shoulder). Felix!
SIR F. (turning). Grace! (Aside.) I wonder if she overheard!
LADY F. You seem merry!—laughing at your own jokes? Quite right you should, for nobody else does!
SIR F. Thank you! (Aside.) All right! she didn’t hear anything. Perhaps I’d better prepare her, just a little bit, or she might petrify poor Arthur with one of her tragedy looks before he opens his mouth, and then he’d take to his heels to a certainty! (Aloud.) By-the-bye, my dear Grace, have you noticed anything peculiar in young Vallance’s behavior lately?
LADY F. No; he seems as apathetic as ever; he may, perhaps, have shown a little more attention to me than usual (with intention).
SIR F. (aside). The deuce he has! I wonder what she’ll say presently when he comes out with his “agony” and “despair?” (Aloud.) I don’t mean his behavior to you—but to Myrtle! He’s not half so spooney—I mean attentive—as he used to be, and I fear there’s a reason for it! (with significance).
LADY F. Indeed!
SIR F. Yes! he may be smitten with somebody else! At his age the affections are fickle, volatile—skipping like a flea—
LADY F. Felix!
SIR F. I mean sipping like a bee from flower to flower! Myrtle is young—very young; but even youth like hers may become insipid! The love of every precocious boy of fifteen is a woman of thirty! I began at twelve!