Sir G. (putting chair, C., into its place at desk) Now, Miss Dalrymple, if you are at liberty, perhaps you will be kind enough to tell me what has become of my wife.
Rose. (going to him, C.) She’ll be here directly. She is only speaking to the servants. (kisses him)
Enter Lady Carlyon, L., also in evening dress, with a bouquet; she at once sees Philip and he her; Philip, R., turns full front to audience.
Lady C. (aside) Philip! (stops short)
Sir G. (seeing her) Ah, here she is! (goes to her, L.) My dear, you don’t look well!
Lady C. The theatre was so close.
Sir G. It always makes you ill. But you have not seen Philip. (indicates Philip)
Lady C. Ah, Mr. Graham! (advances C.—Philip advances to meet her) Excuse me for not recognising you. (they shake hands rather ceremoniously)
Sir G. What has turned Philip into Mr. Graham, pray?
Lady C. He has not been to see us for so long.