Mrs. W. (with horror). You are not really Lord Ferrol?
Lord F. Who else should I be?
[Pause.
Amy (sinking faintly into chair). And I asked leave to kiss him!
Mrs. W. (coming down to c. and speaking with great anxiety). Lord Ferrol, my young people here were each trying to play a joke on the other, and by a horrible coincidence you have been the victim. (Imploringly.) Will you not try to forgive us now, and let me explain at dinner?
[All come down stage and seem to plead.
Lord F. Well, really, if it’s a mistake, of course I can’t cut up rough. (To Amy.) Then you don’t think I’m a dear love of a snob, eh?
Amy (faintly). Oh, no, Lord Ferrol.
Lord F. And you don’t want to kiss me?
Amy (more faintly). No, indeed, Lord Ferrol.