Mrs. Crashaw: ‘I think it’s much more important he should put on another collar and—shirt, if he’s going to see company.’
Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes; go right off at once, Edward. How you do think of things, Aunt Mary! I really suppose I should have gone on all night and never noticed his looks. Run, Edward, and do it, dear. But—kiss me first! Oh, it don’t seem as if you could be alive and well after it all! Are you sure you’re not hurt?’
Roberts, embracing her: ‘No; I’m all right.’
Mrs. Roberts: ‘And you’re not injured internally? Sometimes they’re injured internally—aren’t they, Aunt Mary?—and it doesn’t show till months afterwards. Are you sure?’
Roberts, making a cursory examination of his ribs with his hands: ‘Yes, I think so.’
Mrs. Roberts: ‘And you don’t feel any bad effects from the cologne now? Just think, Aunt Mary, I gave him cologne to drink, and poured the brandy on his head, when he came in! But I was determined to keep calm, whatever I did. And if I’ve poisoned him I’m quite willing to die for it—oh, quite! I would gladly take the blame of it before the whole world.’
Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Well, for pity’s sake, let the man go and make himself decent. There’s your bell now.’
Mrs. Roberts: ‘Yes, do go, Edward. But—kiss me—’
Mrs. Crashaw: ‘He did kiss you, Agnes. Don’t be a simpleton!’
Mrs. Roberts: ‘Did he? Well, kiss me again, then, Edward. And now do go, dear. M-m-m-m.’ The inarticulate endearments represented by these signs terminate in a wild embrace, protracted halfway across the room, in the height of which Mr. Willis Campbell enters.