Dor. Matrimonial thimblerig is a confusing game to watch.
Pil. Thimblerig?
Dor. Three thimbles, don't you know? Husband—wife—and the other chap. (Mr. Pillenger looks up) Well, what I meant to say was, it ain't easy for the looker-on to say which thimble the fault is under. By-the-bye, I saw something in the paper about Lady Huntworth the other day.
Pil. Surely the whole affair is uninteresting and unsavory?
Dor. Noosance to forget a thing! What was the bit you were reading, Lucy?
Lucy. That yesterday the rule was made absolute. What does that mean?
Dor. Only that the time was up. They keep 'em in blinkers for six months after the verdict. (Dorvaston draws napkin through the ring) But that wasn't what I read? What the devil was it now?
Pil. Tut! Really! Really! I think we've all finished, haven't we? (Gandy appears with letters, three of which Mr. Pillenger takes, and two Miss Pillenger) Hannah, you will probably wish to interview Cook. (Dorvaston rises, takes chair R., sits and begins to load his pipe)
Miss P. I will see her in your presence. (Gandy has come back to top of table) Gandy, will you ask Cook to come to me? I wish to give her my orders.