Mrs Eff. I do not expect any young man to grasp me.
Tom. And she’s right.
Eff. (rising and approaching Tom). We pity you, young man, but do not despise you. Read the master thoughts of mighty minds. Withdraw yourself within yourself. Soar. Be abstract. Think long and largely. Study the incomprehensible. Revolve. So will you learn at last to detach yourself from the sordid world, and float, as we float, in thoughts of empyrean purity.
Car. Oh, sir, my father is an aged man, and his words are wise. Be led by him and you will prosper.
Mrs Eff. The young man is not of those who can detach themselves from the sordid world.
Tom. I beg your pardon. The young man is one of those who have detached themselves from the sordid world, so completely that he can’t get back again!
Enter Colonel O’Fipp.
O’Fi. Now, if you’ve got the receipt—— Mrs. Effingham! I’m rejoiced to see ye! Miss Caroline—Bulstrode—Mr. Effingham, my aged friend! Allow me to inthrojuice ye to a very particular friend and ould comrade—Major-General Arthur Fitzpatrick. (Tom bows.) Foightin’ Fitz we called him.
All. What!
O’Fi. Major-General Arthur Fitzpatrick. (Tom bows.)