k the first bit of paper bearin' the honoured name of woman
falls doo.

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Oh!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

I repeat the word, d-u-e, doo.

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Mr. Lebanon!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Our interview has been a distressin' one, Lady Twombley. It is over.

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Mr. Lebanon! Mr. Lebanon! [He turns his chair from her. To herself.]
It's all up with me. I--I'll go and find pa, and tell him. There's no
help for it--I'll tell him. Mr. Lebanon! For the last time--have
compassion on a poor fool of a woman! [He turns away.] Oh! I'll go to
pa's room and--tell him. [She goes out.]

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

That's one way to the old gentleman's room. [He opens the door and
listens.] Ah! what's the latest quotation for lovely woman's weakness?

[VALENTINE enters with MRS. GAYLUSTRE and MACPHAIL, who looks very
scared, has a handkerchief bound round his knee, and leans on MRS.
GAYLUSTRE'S arm. She supports him to a chair.]

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

[To SIR COLIN.] Lean on your poor broken-hearted friend.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

[To himself.] Oh, the dooce!

VALENTINE WHITE.

I'll find Lady Macphail. [He goes out.]

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

[Whispering to LEBANON.] Get out of sight!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

[Quietly to her.] Can't. I must wait here--I've got an important little
affair on.

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

So have I. Leave us!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Oh, my goodness, how selfish you are, Fanny!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Selfish! you'll ruin my prospects in life! Brute!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Vixen!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Bah!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Bah!

[LEBANON goes out. MRS. GAYLUSTRE throws herself on her knees beside
MACPHAIL.]

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

How do you feel now?

MACPHAIL.

Well, its tingling.

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Tingling! You bear it like a hero.

MACPHAIL.

I appreciate the compliment, but I'm thinking I'm only a bit singed.

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Ah, but why, why do you indulge in these reckless sports?

MACPHAIL.

I was merely sitting in the drag looking at the sky.

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Sitting in the drag looking at the sky! How foolhardy!

MACPHAIL.

Whereupon your brother, without a word of warning, blazed away at my
knee.

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Ah, don't describe it! Suppose you had had your head on your knee!

LADY MACPHAIL.

[Outside.] Take me to Colin!

MACPHAIL.

My mother!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

[To herself.] Drat your mother.

[She stands with her handkerchi