(Mrs. Denham leads her away, the handkerchief falls on the floor.)
Denham.
(gets up from the table, takes his pipe, lights it, and sits down again) Everything seems torn up by the roots here. What is to become of that monkey? She has routed her mother, horse, foot, and dragoons, this time. Well, it's a wise mother that knows her own daughter. (Works on again.) Going to drown herself! Perhaps it would have been better if her father had hung himself long ago. There's always that question of: To be or not to be?
(Re-enter Mrs. Denham.)
Mrs. Denham.
She's asleep, Arthur.
Denham.
Poor little ugly duck!
Mrs. Denham.
I suppose you think I have acted very injudiciously?