Sudley. [Furious.] Eh,—eh,—my dear sir, I leave you to your fate. [Philip angrily points him the door and Sudley leaves in great haste.
Miss Heneage. [With weight.] Philip, you've not heard—
Philip. [Interrupting.] Everything—from Grace! My sister has repeated your words to me—and her own! I've told her what I think of her. [Philip looks witheringly at Grace.
Grace. I shan't wait to hear any more.
[She flounces out of the room.
Philip. Don't make it necessary for me to tell you what I think of you. [Philip moves to the right, toward his mother, to whom he gives his arm. Miss Heneage immediately seeks the opposite side.] Mother, with your permission, I desire to be alone. I expect both you and Grace, Sarah, to be dressed and ready for the ceremony a half hour from now. [As Philip and Mrs. Phillimore are about to go out, Miss Heneage speaks.
Miss Heneage. I shall come or not as I see fit. And let me add, my dear brother, that a fool at forty is a fool indeed. [Miss Heneage, high and mighty, goes out, much pleased with her quotation.
Mrs. Phillimore. [Stupid and weary as usual, to Philip, as he leads her to the door.] My dear son—I won't venture to express— [Cynthia, in irritation, moves to the table.
Philip. [Soothing a silly mother.] No, mother, don't! But I shall expect you, of course, at the ceremony. [Mrs. Phillimore languidly retires. Philip strides to the centre of the room, taking the tone, and assuming the attitude of, the injured husband.] It is proper for me to tell you that I followed you to Belmont. I am aware—I know with whom—in fact, I know all! [He punctuates his words with pauses, and indicates the whole censorious universe.] And now let me assure you—I am the last man in the world to be jilted on the very eve of—of—everything with you. I won't be jilted. [Cynthia is silent.] You understand? I propose to marry you. I won't be made ridiculous.
Cynthia. [Glancing at Philip.] Philip, I didn't mean to make you—