LARK. (grasping WOODCOCK’S other arm) You’ll be my second? I’m going to shoot Swansdown!
| SWANS. | } | Come! |
| LARK. |
They drag WOODCOCK out between them at L., WOODCOCK struggling, &c.
MRS. C. (who recovers and runs to MRS. LARKINGS) My dear Mrs. Larkings, look up, there’s a dear creature.
MRS. L. Oh, oh, oh! (sobbing) I’m the most miserable woman in the world!
MRS. C. (soothingly) So you shall be, there! but what has happened?
MRS. L. (C.) My husband—Christopher has written a love letter to Mrs. Swansdown! Oh, the base, fickle, perfidious monster!
MRS. C. (R. C.) My dear friend, never indulge in a plurality of epithets; select one, a good one, and stick to it! I never called Carver anything but a brute! But are you sure?
MRS. L. Quite certain! Mr. Swansdown has promised to send me the letter in half an hour; if it contains the proof of Christopher’s inconstancy, oh, what shall I do?
MRS. C. Nothing, ’till Mr. Swansdown has sent you the letter——