CECILY.
Uncle Jack seems strangely agitated.
CHASUBLE.
Your guardian has a very emotional nature.
LADY BRACKNELL.
This noise is extremely unpleasant. It sounds as if he was having an argument. I dislike arguments of any kind. They are always vulgar, and often convincing.
CHASUBLE.
[Looking up.] It has stopped now. [The noise is redoubled.]
LADY BRACKNELL.
I wish he would arrive at some conclusion.
GWENDOLEN.
This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last. [Enter Jack with a hand-bag of black leather in his hand.]
JACK.
[Rushing over to Miss Prism.] Is this the hand-bag, Miss Prism? Examine it carefully before you speak. The happiness of more than one life depends on your answer.
MISS PRISM.
[Calmly.] It seems to be mine. Yes, here is the injury it received through the upsetting of a Gower Street omnibus in younger and happier days. Here is the stain on the lining caused by the explosion of a temperance beverage, an incident that occurred at Leamington. And here, on the lock, are my initials. I had forgotten that in an extravagant mood I had had them placed there. The bag is undoubtedly mine. I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly restored to me. It has been a great inconvenience being without it all these years.
JACK.
[In a pathetic voice.] Miss Prism, more is restored to you than this hand-bag. I was the baby you placed in it.
MISS PRISM.
[Amazed.] You?