Matthew. Really, my dear, in the pomp and vanity—I mean—ceremony of this—this unique occasion, there should be sufficient exhilaration.
Cynthia. [With extraordinary control.] But there isn't!
[Feeling weak, she sits down.
Matthew. I don't think my Bishop would approve of—eh—anything before!
Cynthia. [Too agitated to know how much she is moved.] I feel very queer.
Matthew. [Piously sure that everything is for the best.] My dear child—
Cynthia. However, I suppose there's nothing for it—now—but—to—to—
Matthew. Courage!
Cynthia. [Desperate and with a sudden explosion.] Oh, don't speak to me. I feel as if I'd been eating gunpowder, and the very first word of the wedding service would set it off!
Matthew. My dear, your indisposition is the voice of nature. [Cynthia speaks more rapidly and with growing excitement. Matthew makes a movement toward the Choir Boys.