LADY F. (pathetically to VALLANCE). Spare my blushes; I guess all you would say.
ARTH. (aside). Do you? That’s lucky, for I’m regularly stumped.
LADY F. (suddenly grasping VALLANCE by the wrist and dragging him forward, almost upsetting him). Listen! my husband is not unkind, though he might be kinder; he is not ill-looking, indeed, he might be uglier; but he has one terrible defect. (SIR F. here leans forward and listens.) He really flatters himself that he possesses a fund of wit; that he is literally running over with fun; whereas the poor man really doesn’t possess a single particle of either. It’s very sad, isn’t it?
ARTH. Melancholy in the extreme.
LADY F. And I’m sure, as for humor—
ARTH. He’s just about as much in him as an old cab horse! (FELIX shakes his fist at VALLANCE.)
LADY F. But alas! for every one of his dismal jokes that you hear I am doomed to listen to a hundred! Is it to be wondered at, then, that I should pant, crave for a change?—(gradually getting more excited)—that I should find the temptation you offer me too great to resist?
ARTH. (aghast). Eh! what? You don’t mean to say you consent?
LADY F. Of course I do! (with enthusiasm). What woman could resist the Sandwich Islands, and you for a companion! In five minutes expect me here on this spot. Give me but time to pack up my jewels, a dozen or two dresses, and a sprinkling of hats, and I’ll be with you, my Arthur! (Going—stops.) You won’t mind my bringing my favorite little pug-dog, of course you won’t—(going—stops again)—and a couple of kittens—a thousand thanks—and you won’t object to putting the parrot cage under your arm? I thought not.