Cha. Why, may I ask? I was asleep just now, and dreaming charmingly. If you like, I’ll tell you the dream.
Luc. Certainly not, sir.
Cha. Very good: it’ll keep for another time; but then, inasmuch as it was you that woke me up, permit me at least to converse with you as a compensation.
Luc. (aside). He is not stupid.
Cha. I beg pardon: did you speak?
Luc. (aside). What have I to dread? He seems a gentleman. (Aloud.) Well, sir, proceed, as you consider yourself aggrieved; only remember that I trust to your feelings as a gentleman, and your discretion.
Cha. Madam, you may depend upon it. (Wheeling arm-chair to door, and speaking through keyhole.) Are you married?
Luc. (affronted and aside). Upon my word! (Aloud.) Do you call that discretion, sir?
Cha. Most certainly; as a subject of conversation I see nothing against it. Society prescribes certain forms of conversation; and, to ascertain what forms to use, one must know whether one is speaking to a widow or a young girl, to an old maid or a married woman.
Luc. In—I—I am married.