Yes, to be sure; walk on before, and let me look at you. Hold up your head—there, that's it!
DICK—(marching.)
Come along. Hang it, who's afraid?
[They go out.
Scene changes to a Drawing-room in the House of Lady Amaranthe.
Enter Lady Amaranthe, leaning upon her maid, Mademoiselle Justine.
LADY AMARANTHE.
Avancez un fauteuil, ma chère! arrangez les coussins. (Justine settles the chair, and places a footstool. Lady Amaranthe, sinking into the arm-chair with a languid air.) Justine, I shall die, I shall certainly die! I never can survive this!
JUSTINE.