TOUCHIT.—Well, not exactly. I don't like sixpenny points, Horace, or quarrelling with old dragons about the odd trick. I will go and smoke a cigar on the terrace, and contemplate the silver Thames, the darkling woods, the starry hosts of heaven. I—I like smoking better than playing whist. [MILLIKEN rings bell.]
MILLIKEN.—Ah, George! you're not fit for domestic felicity.
TOUCHIT.—No, not exactly.
HOWELL enters.
MILLIKEN.—Lights and a whist-table. Oh, I see you bring 'em. You know everything I want. He knows everything I want, Howell does. Let us cut. Miss Prior, you and I are partners!
ACT II.
SCENE.—As before.
LADY K.—Don't smoke, you naughty boy. I don't like it. Besides, it will encourage your brother-in-law to smoke.
CLARENCE K.—Anything to oblige you, I'm sure. But can't do without it, mother; it's good for my health. When I was in the Plungers, our doctor used to say, "You ought never to smoke more than eight cigars a day"—an order, you know, to do it—don't you see?