BART. Yes, sir, a friend. (Aside.) He’s very inquisitive!
ROYS. (looking at album). What charming water-colors—perfect gems!
BART. They are the work of Mrs. Templeton’s elder niece. Are you an artist?
ROYS. No, merely an amateur. And you?
BART. A humble member of the legal profession.
ROYS. A lawyer—eh? (Aside.) By Jove! here’s a chance for me! I’ve half a mind to—he looks the very picture of good-nature, and six and eightpence won’t ruin me! (Aloud.) Might I venture, sir, on so very slight an acquaintance, to solicit your professional opinion? (BARTON bows.) It is rather a delicate subject, a very peculiar subject.
BART. I’m all attention, sir, merely observing that the sooner you begin—
ROYS. The sooner I shall have done. Exactly. Then I’ll come to the point at once. I would ask you whether, in your opinion, a promise of marriage, written under certain circumstances and under certain conditions, must necessarily be binding?
BART. Such conditions being—