Miss P. Cecil, I am surprised, astounded! Professor Anstruther is a man with a peculiarly cultivated mind. I was gleaning all the information I could on the fascinating subject of antiquities. You remember I often had cause to beg you to show less levity in your intercourse with Captain Waring.
Cecil (rising). Dear G., I was accumulating information on military matters. (Miss P. rises.) There, forgive me I don’t wonder at any one admiring your sweet, white curls. (Caresses.) We must not spend the whole day in the Princess’s garden unasked, though I should love to poke about these dear little ponds.
Miss P. (emphatically). I only consented to leave the place they dignify with the name of house in order to purchase somewhere thick curtains. Do they imagine a cultivated Englishwoman will retire to rest surrounded by paper walls? I am ready, Cecil.
Cecil (taking Miss P.’s arm). Just a moment. It is so peaceful here. (They walk down R.) And you have really made me nervous about Arthur. Where do you think the mad boy can be? Why did that foolish old man leave him the money with the insane remark about a rightful heiress shipwrecked off the coast of Japan? Who could find a shipwrecked baby in Japan? And everything possible has been done. The Lady’s parents were drowned, and therefore, naturally, with so much water a baby couldn’t escape. I wonder if Arthur has advertised in the papers? Do they have newspapers in Japan? Oh, yes, I know; you begin at the wrong end. Or does he travel about the country cross-examining and fascinating the girls?
Miss P. (indignantly shaking off C.’s hand and walking away). Cecil!
Cecil (following). Well, you know it’s true. And you and I are equally foolish about him, and have travelled all this distance, encountering hideous dangers. (Miss P. sighs.) All for the love of his bonny face.
Miss P. (quickly). I came to chaperone you, my dear.
Cecil (faces Miss P., shaking finger). G., G., speak the truth! You have a vivid, affectionate memory of a fat little boy clad in a tight Holland overall, sitting on your knee eating buttered toast.
Miss P. (indignantly). Really, Cecil, I never permit myself to think of his lordship in such indecorous fashion. I would not take such a liberty.
Cecil (placing hands on Miss P.’s shoulders). Who keeps golden curls, even a tooth or two? Who gave him anything for a kiss—you’ll do the same again, you naughty old thing!