Miss Seaton. Don't trouble to tell me—I know everything. And—and you ought to have died rather than descend to this!
Lord Strath. Ought I? Died, eh? That never occurred to me; and, after all, Marjory, you're here! What's wrong? What have I let myself in for?
Miss Seaton (bitterly). What have you let yourself out for, you mean, don't you?
Lord Strath. (mystified). I don't know! I believe my man let me out; and, anyway, what does it matter now I've come? There's dinner announced. Marjory, before we're separated, just tell me what on earth I've done to deserve this sort of thing!
Miss Seaton (with a little gesture of despair). Is it possible you want to be told how horribly you have disappointed me!
[The couples are forming to go down.
Lord Strath. (stiffly). I can only say the disappointment is mutual!
[He moves away, and awaits his hostess's directions.
Little Gwennie (stealing up to her Governess). Oh, Miss Seaton, haven't I been good? I've kept quite quiet in a corner, and I haven't said a single word to anybody ever since he came. But what nice Gentlemen Blankley does send, doesn't he?
Mrs. Tid. (on Uncle Gabriel's arm). Oh, I quite forgot you, Lord—ah—Strathporridge. As you and Miss Seaton seem to be already acquainted, perhaps you will have the goodness to take her down? You will sit on my left—on the fireplace side—and—(in a whisper)—the less you say the better!