TRANTO. Yes?

CULVER. My--I mean the sex, must hear of the offered title from me
first. If the news came to her indirectly she'd--

_Enter_ Mrs. Culver _rapidly, back_.

MRS. CULVER (_rushing to him_). Darling! Dearest! What a tease you are!
You needn't pretend any longer. Lady Prockter has just whispered to me
over the telephone that you're to have a baronetcy. Of course she'd be
bound to know. She said I might tell you. I never _dreamed_ of a title.
I'm so glad. Oh! But you _are_ a tease! (_Kisses him enthusiastically_.)

CURTAIN.

ACT II

ACT II

_The next day after dinner_. Culver _and_ Parlourmaid.

CULVER (_handing_ Parlourmaid _a letter_). That's for the post. Is Miss
Starkey here?

PARLOURMAID. Yes, sir. She is waiting.

CULVER. Ask her to be good enough to keep on waiting. She may come in
when I ring twice.

PARLOURMAID. Yes, sir.

_Enter_ Mrs. Culver, _back_.

MRS. CULVER (_to_ Parlourmaid, _stopping her as she goes out,
dramatically_). Give me that letter. (_She snatches the letter from the_
Parlourmaid.) You can go. (Culver _rises_.) (_Exit_ Parlourmaid.)

MRS. CULVER. I am determined to make a stand this time.

CULVER (_soothingly_). So I see, darling.

MRS. CULVER. I have given way to you all my life. But I won't give way
now. This letter shall not go.

CULVER. As you like, darling.

MRS. CULVER. No. (_She tears the envelope open, without having looked at
it, and throws the letter into the fire. In doing so she lets fall a
cheque_.)

CULVER (_rising and picking up the cheque_). I'll keep the cheque as a
memento.

MRS. CULVER. Cheque? What cheque?

CULVER. Darling, once in the old, happy days--I think it was last
week--you and I were walking down Bond Street, almost hand in hand, but
not quite, and you saw a brooch in a shop window. You simply had to have
that brooch. I offered it to you for a Christmas present. You are
wearing it now, and very well it suits you. This (_indicating the
cheque_) was to pay the bill.

MRS. CULVER. Arthur!

CULVER. Moral: Look before you burn. Miss Starkey will now have to write
a fresh letter.

MRS. CULVER. Arthur! You must forgive me. I'm in a horrid state of
nerves, and you said you were positively going to write to Lord Woking
to-night to refuse the title.

CULVER. I did say so.

MRS. CULVER (_hopefully_). But you haven't written?

CULVER. I haven't.

MRS. CULVER. You don't know how relieved I am!

CULVER (_sitting dow