[A luxuriously furnished drawing-room at Mrs. Murray's house in Charles Street, Mayfair. Everything in it is beautiful, but suggests in the owner good taste rather than originality.]
[Hilda is seated near a tea-table, elaborately gowned, and with her is Mabel. Mr. Robert Brackley is sitting down, a stout, round-faced man, clean-shaven and very bald; about forty; he is attired in the height of fashion, in a frock-coat, patent-leather boots and an eye-glass. He talks very quickly, in a careless frivolous fashion, and is always much amused at what he says.]
Mabel.
What is the time, Mr. Brackley?
Brackley.
I shan't tell you again.
Mabel.
How brutal of you!
Brackley.
There's something unhealthy in your passion for information. I've already told you five times.