Ted. It’s soon told—Mrs. Van Brugh, you have a daughter, who’s the best and loveliest girl I ever saw in my life.
Mrs. V. B. (pause). My poor Edward!
Ted. Did—did you know that I—that I was like this?
Mrs. V. B. No! no! no!
Ted. Nor I, it came on me like a thunderclap—my love for that little girl has grown as imperceptibly as my age has grown—I’ve taken no note of either till now—when I rub my eyes and find that I love her dearly, and that I’m eight-and-thirty!
Mrs. V. B. But, surely you know—you must have heard——
Ted. Yes, yes, I’ve just heard—Fred Smailey’s a lucky fellow, and he deserves his luck.
Mrs. V. B. Perhaps. I don’t know. I don’t like Fred Smailey.
Ted. (amazed). You don’t like Smailey?
Mrs. V. B. No, I don’t, and I’m afraid I show it. My dear old friend, it would have made me very happy to have seen you married to Eve, but he was first in the field, and she loves him. At first I wouldn’t hear of it—but she fell ill—might have died—well I’m her mother, and I love her, and I gave in. I know nothing against him.