M.B. Your conscience calls you, does it not, to enlist? (George nods.) I have no conscience. While you fight I shall continue to press my suit.
G.J. (despairingly to himself). Alas! what chance will that sweet girl have against his dark saturnine beauty and his wealth? (Aloud, hopefully, as a thought strikes him) But stay—war with Germany—perhaps you are a pauper also?
M.B. Not I, indeed. I am a maker of munitions. A-ha! [Twirls his moustache.
G.J. (losing his temper). Cur! [Exit, to enlist, into cupboard. Before he has time to realise his mistake the curtain falls.
ACT II.
Hyde Park, August, 1915.
A dozen energetic supers, by being extremely glad to see one another very many times, are creating the illusion of a gay and fashionable throng. Enter Marmaduke Beltravers with Mary. She is distraite.
M.B. (in full hearing of fashionable throng). Darling, I have waited patiently for you. Say that you will marry me now.
Mary. Marmaduke, you are rich, you are beautiful and you are kind to me in your rather wicked way. But, alas! I cannot forget the noble figure of George—my George. [She sobs.
Enter George Jeffreys, in the uniform of a private.