Enter LARKINGS at C. in very fashionable evening costume.
LARK. (R. C., seeing WOODCOCK) Ah, Woodcock! All alone, eh? I’m afraid you’re not enjoying yourself?
WOOD. (L. C.) Yes, I am—in a quiet way!
LARK. Delightful party, eh? By-the-bye—I congratulate you—your wife is really a very nice sort of person—very nice, indeed! (in a patronizing tone) but her dancing has been sadly neglected. However, make yourself easy, I’ve engaged her for the next three polkas on purpose to teach her the proper step!
WOOD. Have you?
LARK. After that I’m engaged to Mrs. Swansdown for the rest of the evening. Swansdown’s gone home as usual! ha, ha! poor Swansdown! “when the cat’s away,” you know, eh? ha, ha!
WOOD. (drawing himself up) Mr. Christopher Larkings!
LARK. Come, come, Woodcock—that grave face won’t do with me, besides, it isn’t because I flirt with my friend’s wives that I love them! I flirt with yours, but I don’t love her, at least, not yet! ha, ha! but I say, old fellow, don’t follow Swansdown’s example—what can a man on the wrong side of forty expect if he will go home to bed and leave a pretty young wife behind him, eh? ha, ha! (poking WOODCOCK in the side)
WOOD. Sir! my friend, Swansdown, has too much confidence——
LARK. (laughing) Of course he has, that’s the delicious part of it, ha, ha! I say, Woodcock. (taking his arm, and aside to him) I don’t mind telling you—and after all, I meant no harm—but when Mrs. Larkings went down to your wedding at—what d’ye call the place—Toad in the Hole——