Lord Bl. Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob in the burst boots to me?
Verb. (aside). How can I tell him the truth without betraying dear Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (To Lord B.) Lord Bleshugh, I have been trifling with you. I—I never loved you.
Lord B. I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling cad?
Verb. And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (With hysterical gaiety.) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker—he has not yet howled in my presence—(aside)—though I very nearly did in his!
Lord B. And you really love him?
Verb. I—I love him. (Aside.) My heart will break!
Lord B. Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy as the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, and soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit. (Goes up stage, and returns.) A few days since you presented me with a cloth pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will kindly wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in returning a memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and there are several little things I gave you which I can take back with me at the same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
[Exit.
Verbena. Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone yard-measure, and the diamond pig—they are all I have to remind me of him!
[Enter Spiker, slightly intoxicated.