ETHEL. And so it isn’t in the papers! Oh! it isn’t half being married, when it isn’t in the papers! We stop here for two months.
EDWIN. We leave here to-morrow. (at the window) Ethel! Ethel! I distinctly see a woman. Positively—yes, a woman has arrived. She turns this way. She looks—she smiles—she bows. By jingo, Miss Carruthers! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
ETHEL. No! (runs to window) It is her! We leave here to-morrow.
EDWIN. (sitting down firmly) We stop here for two months.
ETHEL. Oh! (jumps up to window) Well, I declare. Well, did I ever? This is charming. (to some one without) How d’ you do? How are you? Quite well, thank you; so glad that you’ve come. Oh, Edwin, if there’s not that dear delightful Captain Plunger.
EDWIN. Eh?
ETHEL. You know. That darling Captain Plunger.
EDWIN. You don’t mean that—that infernal fellow with the whiskers, whom I’ve been so nearly kicking several times.
ETHEL. That very man. My favourite admirer.
EDWIN. Ethel, you’re a married woman.