Miss Seaton. Don't remind me of—of what you used to be, and—and you are not to call me Marjory any more. We have met—and I only hope and pray we may never meet again. Please don't talk any more!
Lord Strath. (to himself.) That's a facer! I wonder if Marjory's quite—is this the effect of that infernal influenza?
Mrs. Tid. (to him in an under-tone). You and Miss Seaton appear to be on very familiar terms. I really feel it my duty to ask you when and how you made the acquaintance of my daughter's governess.
Lord Strath. (to himself). The governess! That explains a lot. Poor little Marjory! (Aloud.) Really? I congratulate you. I had the honour of knowing Miss Seaton in Scotland a year or two ago, and this is the first time we have met since.
Mrs. Tid. Indeed? That is so far satisfactory. I hope you will understand that, so long as Miss Seaton is in my employment, I cannot allow her to—er—continue your acquaintanceship—it is not as if you were in a position——
Lord Strath. (with suppressed wrath.) Forgive me—but, as Miss Seaton shows no desire whatever to renew my acquaintance, I don't see that we need discuss my position, or hers either. And I must decline to do so.
Mrs. Tid. (crimsoning.) Oh, very well. I am not accustomed to be told what subjects I am to discuss at my own table, but (scathingly) no doubt your position here gives you the right to be independent—ahoo!
Lord Strath. I venture to think so. (To himself.) Can't make this woman out—is she trying to be rude, or what?
Uncle Gab. Hullo, your Lordship's got no Champagne! How's that? It's all right—"Fizzler, '84," my Lord!
Lord Strath. I daresay—but the fact is, I am strictly forbidden to touch it.