ad better
not lose your dance.

[With a slight courtesy to MACPHAIL, IMOGEN gives him her arm as
VALENTINE enters, trimmed, shaven, and in immaculate evening dress.]

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

Why, Val!

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Mr. White!

VALENTINE WHITE.

Imogen!

IMOGEN.

[Leaving MACPHAIL.] Valentine!

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Valentine White!

VALENTINE WHITE.

Imogen, am I too late?

IMOGEN.

Too late?

VALENTINE WHITE.

For the honor of dancing with you to-night?

IMOGEN.

You--you are in time, Valentine.

VALENTINE WHITE.

For which dance?

IMOGEN.

This dance.

MACPHAIL.

Mother!

DOWAGER.

The child's mad!

LADY MACPHAIL.

Stop the Strathspey! Stop the Strathspey!

[She hurries out, followed by MACPHAIL.]

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Mr. White, really you shouldn't, you know.

[The music ceases.]

VALENTINE WHITE.

Sir Julian, Lady Twombley, with your permission I shall go no further to
avoid the shams of life. I have found one cool resting-place in this
world where there is reality and sincerity. [With IMOGEN'S hands in
his.] And I have found it in an advanced state of civilization.

[The DOWAGER pulls IMOGEN away.]

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I positively must beg----

DOWAGER.

[To IMOGEN.] Child, at this moment I feel grateful that I am your aunt,
with all an aunt's privileges. [She shakes her.]

IMOGEN.

Mamma!

LADY TWOMBLEY.

[Seizing IMOGEN.] My chick, your mother has privileges also. Bless you
and Valentine. [Kissing her.] There! Dora, if you shake my girl again
I--I'll slap you!

DOWAGER.

Ah! Julian!

[DRUMDURRIS appears with a telegram.]

EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.

Aunt!

LADY TWOMBLEY.

What's that?

EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.

From Reeves & Shuckleback!

[She snatches the telegram from him.]

EVERYBODY.

What's the matter?

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Julian, look at your wife! Brooke, Imogen, come to your mother! No more
worries by day and bad dreams at night! No poverty--no cottage--no--no
vegetables! I--I am a rich woman!

[She falls back fainting into SIR JULIAN'S arms as they all surround
her. At the same moment LEBANON rushes in with MRS. GAYLUSTRE. He has a
telegram in his hand; his aspect is wild, his face white.]

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Lady Twombley! Where is she? Lady Twombley!

[As LADY TWOMBLEY is assisted to a chair LEBANON falls into another.]

IMOGEN.

Mamma!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Joseph!

IMOGEN.

Ah!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Ah!