TRIP. (advancing). A thousand apologies, madam, for the trouble I put you to. I—madam—you overwhelm me with confusion.
MABEL. Nay—nay—be seated.
TRIP. Madam, you are too condescending. (Aside) Who can she be? (Bows again and again.)
MABEL. Nay, sit down and rest you. (Triplet bows, and sits on the edge of a chair, with astonishment). You look sadly adust and tired.
TRIP. Why, yes, madam; it is a long way from Lambeth; and the heat is surpassing (takes his handkerchief out to wipe his brow: returns it somewhat hastily to his pocket). I beg your pardon, I forgot myself.
MABEL (aside). Poor man, he looks sadly lean and hungry. And I’ll be bound you came in such a hurry, you forgot—you mustn’t be angry with me—to have your dinner first.
TRIP. How strange! Madam, you have guessed it. I did forget—he, he!—I have such a head—not that I need have forgotten it—but being used to forget it, I did not remember not to forget it to-day (smiles absurdly).
MABEL (pours wine). A glass of wine, sir?
TRIP. (rising and bowing). Nay, madam (eyes the wine—drinks). Nectar, as I am a man. (She helps him to refreshments).
MABEL. Take a biscuit, sir?