(During the following, until LADY F.’S entrance, the COLONEL shows his head occasionally above the back of the couch, but withdraws it again at a sign from SIR FELIX.)
SIR F. (aside). Now for it—(coming down—takes MYRTLE’S hand, and in an exaggerated tone of grief). Myrtle! Myrtle! in me you behold a broken-hearted husband!
MYRT. (aside). Very well acted, indeed! (Aloud, and in a pretended tone of commiseration). Broken-hearted?
SIR F. When I say “broken-hearted,” I don’t wish you to infer that the centre of my organic functions is snapped in half like a stick of firewood—far from it, Myrtle. But I’m broken-hearted for all that!
MYRT. Absurd! while you have Grace and me to console you!
SIR F. Grace no longer. She has deserted me, and for young Vallance! (falling into chair and burying his face in his hands).
Here LADY F. appears at C., listening.
SIR F. (peeping out at the corner of his handkerchief, and seeing her. Aside). She’s there! (Aloud.) Yes, Myrtle, I’m a wretched, abandoned man!
MYRT. You can’t be serious?
SIR F. It’s too true!