Marmaduke Beltravers (hoarsely). I have laid at your feet my hand, my heart and my flourishing business, and thus—thus I am supplanted by that puling saint, George Jeffreys. A-ha! [Gnaws his moustache.
Enter George Jeffreys, an English gentleman.
George Jeffreys (furiously). You here? You hound! You blackguard! You ...
Mary (realising that this is going to be no place for a lady). The butcher—know his ring. [Exit by door R.
G.J. (pointing fiercely to cupboard). Go!
M.B. (going). Bah! You triumph now, but my day will dawn yettah. (Starts.) What was that?
Newsboy (outside). War with Germany! War with Germany!
G.J. War? Then I am a pauper. [He does not say how, but presumably he knows best.
M.B. (ceasing to go). My day has dawned now.
G.J. How so?