Mrs. Dot: A Farce

by W. Somerset Maugham

Lady Sellenger.

Oh, how monstrous! My poor Gerald, what shall I do?

[Gerald goes into a roar of laughter. He laughs louder and louder.

Lady Sellenger.

Gerald! Gerald! Don’t! Pull yourself together. The poor boy, he’s perfectly hysterical. Where are my salts? Mrs. Dot, for heaven’s sake calm him down. Oh, my dear! You mustn’t upset yourself yet.

Blenkinsop.

He looks cut up, doesn’t he?

Lady Sellenger.

We’ll pursue them. There’s no harm done yet. We’ll catch them. I promise you we’ll catch them. You shall marry her, Gerald, if I have to drag her to church by the hair of her head.

[At this he stops suddenly and stares at her in dismay.