LADY F. Quite cool and pleasant!
ARTH. (aside). I feel quite hot and unpleasant!
LADY F. By-the-bye, do you know where my husband is?
ARTH. (fidgeting on his chair). Not exactly; but I believe he’s somewhere or other, or if not there, somewhere else.
SIR F. (who has peeped out, listening). Idiot! (hiding again).
LADY F. (observing the movement of the curtain. Aside). He’s there! traitor! (Aloud.) I’m sure I ought to feel deeply grateful to him for leaving so agreeable a substitute.
SIR F. (listening). That ought to encourage him!
ARTH. (aside). It’s time I began, if I’m going to begin at all! (Suddenly, and clasping his hands.) Oh, Lady Fritterly, pardon my agitation; but agitated as I am with the agitations that agitate me—the agony, the despair— (Aside.) I shall stick fast presently; I know I shall!
SIR F. (listening). That’s better.
ARTH. But say—say you forgive me!