(A Story in Scenes.)
PART XVII.—A BOMB SHELL.
Scene XXVI.—A Gallery near the Verney Chamber. Time—About 10.30 P.M.
Spurrell (to himself). I must say it's rather rough luck on that poor devil. I get his dress suit, and all he gets is my booby-trap! (Phillipson, wearing a holland blouse over her evening toilette, approaches from the other end of the passage; he does not recognise her until the moment of collision.) Emma!! It's never you! How do you come to be here?
Phillipson (to herself). Then it was my Jem after all! (Aloud, distantly.) I'm here in attendance on Lady Maisie Mull, being her maid. If I was at all curious—which I'm not—I might ask you what you're doing in such a house as this; and in evening dress, if you please!
Spurr. I'm in evening dress, Emma, such as it is (not that I've any right to find fault with it); but I'm in evening dress (with dignity) because I've been included in the dinner party here.
Phill. You must have been getting on since I knew you. Then you were studying to be a horse-doctor.
Spurr. I have got on. I am now a qualified M.R.C.V.S.
Phill. And does that qualify you to dine with bishops and countesses and baronets and the gentry, like one of themselves?
Spurr. I don't say it does, in itself. It was my Andromeda that did the trick, Emma.