Col. M. Why not say ham-sandwiches at once, Cecilia, my dear? pity to curb your imagination! (Sitting down.) If that tea's drinkable, I don't know that I won't have a cup; though it's not what I came for. I wanted to know if you'd settled to do anything this evening, because, if not, I've got a suggestion—struck me in the Row just after you'd passed, and I thought I'd come back and see how you felt about it. (He takes his tea.) For me?—thanks.
Mrs. M. We feel curious about it at present. Frank.
Col. M. Well, I thought that, as this is Miss Toovey's last evening with us, it was a pity to waste it at home. Why shouldn't we have a little dinner at the Savoy, eh?—about eight—and drop in somewhere afterwards, if we feel inclined?
Mrs. M. Do you know that's quite a delightful idea of yours, Frank. That is, unless Thea has had enough of gaiety, and would rather we had a quiet evening. Would you, dear? To Althea.
Alth. (eagerly). Oh, no, indeed, Cissie, I'm not a bit tired!
Mrs. M. You're quite sure? But where could we go on afterwards, Frank; shouldn't we be too late for any theatre?
Col. M. I rather thought we might look in at the Eldorado; you said you were very keen to hear Walter Wildfire. (He perceives that his wife is telegraphing displeasure.) Eh? why, you did want me to take you.
Alth. (to herself). Walter Wildfire? why, it was Walter Wildfire that Charles advised Mr. Curphew to go and hear. Mr. Curphew said it was the very last thing he was likely to do. But he's so prejudiced!
Mrs. M. (trying to make her husband understand). Some time—but I think, not to-night, Frank.
Col. M. If it's not to-night you mayn't get another chance; they say he's going to give up singing very soon.