Phil. You belong to a very proud family; and there are reasons which you would scarcely understand——
Tom. Mr. Selwyn!
Phil. Which, at any rate, I can’t enter into—that make it impossible you should ever marry my sister.
Tom. That is your ultimatum? (a step towards Philip)
Phil. Yes. (sighing)
Tom. Good day, sir. (walks to the door, R., with importance, suddenly breaks down—exit blubbering, R.U.D.)
Phil. (rises) Poor Tom! He’s only a boy, but he’s a gentleman! (goes to fire, L., and leans on mantle)
Re-enter Beatrice, L.D., pouring medicine out of a medicine bottle into a medicine glass, in which she has already put the poison. She comes down C. to R. of table.
Bea. Here it is, Philip. (hands glass to him)
Phil. Oh dear me, how tired I am of the horrid stuff! (takes glass, and sits wearily L. of table) Surely you have given me too much?