Edwin. Rather a cad—Armande.
Ang. Oh, no. You know we must not judge foreigners by an English standard. (The last Act commences.) You see, she is very ill. That cradle covered with rugs is her bed.
Edwin. Indeed!
Ang. Yes. And that I suppose must be the doctor. I wonder what they are saying! This Act they all seem to be talking faster than they did in the others. That old woman was her friend. I wonder why she has left her like that!
Edwin. Didn't she say something like "What a rum go?" It is the only line I have understood since the commencement of the performance. What is she saying now?
Ang. (hesitating). Well, I am not quite sure. But you see she is very ill. She scarcely recognises Armande.
Edwin. What is he saying? What has he done with his father?
Ang. (perplexed). I can't quite follow this Act—they talk so fast.
Edwin. And, I say, why on earth have these two turned up? A lady in complete bridal costume—wreath, veil, and all—and a chap in evening dress. What on earth have they got to do with the story?
Ang. Don't you think, dear, we had better get a book?