Phil. Well, to talk about them.
Mil. (crosses Tom to Philip, back of sofa. Imploringly) Philip!
Tom. Mildred, this is no place for you. (hands her across to R.U.D.) Leave me alone with Mr. Selwyn.
Mil. (aside to Tom) Tom! You won’t come to blows? (at R.U.D.)
Tom. (L. of her, aside to her) I will control myself. I will not forget the respect that is due to the brother of my affianced wife.
Mil. That’s right, Tom.
Tom. Wait for me—on the mat. (exit Mildred, R.U.D. Tom comes boldly down to C.) Now, Mr. Selwyn, we are alone. We can discuss this matter as men of the world.
Phil. My dear Tom— (Tom draws himself up) Mr. Verinder—Such a thing as marriage at your early age is, of course, preposterous; but I wish you distinctly to understand that the remotest idea of an engagement between you and Mildred is equally out of the question.
Tom. May I ask why, sir?