CAPT. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit while Mamma is weeping over “the Missus.” (CAPT. G. disappears. CAPT. M. starts up tearing his hair.) It's not half legal. Where are the shoes? Get an ayah.
AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the jutis.
CAPT. M. (Brandishing scab larded sword.) Woman, produce those shoes Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack Gaddy's head more than it is. (Slices heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his sleeve.)
Where is the Bride? (To the company at large.) Be tender with that rice. It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.
* * * * * *
Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs toward the sunset.
CAPT. M. (In the open.) Stole away, by Jove! So much the worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than Amdberan! Where's your horse?
CAPT. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.) Where the—is my Wife?
CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride like Young Lochinvar.
Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.