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[They shake hands.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[To MACPHAIL.] Good-bye. You must come and see me on one of my Tuesdays.
MACPHAIL.
Aye, with my mother.
[He turns to IMOGEN; they shake hands.]
IMOGEN.
Good-bye, Sir Colin.
DOWAGER.
[To LADY TWOMBLEY.] There again! look!
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Why, here's Valentine! Valentine!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[Inquiringly.] Valentine?
[BROOKE brings on VALENTINE.]
VALENTINE WHITE.
[To BROOKE.] Let me go! I was trying to find my way out.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
[To LADY TWOMBLEY.] Here's Valentine, come back.
IMOGEN.
Valentine!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen!
IMOGEN.
Oh, my dear Val! My dear old Val!
[She rushes to him impulsively and flings her arms round his neck, at which the DOWAGER gives a cry of horror, and there is a general movement of astonishment.]
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
THE SECOND ACT.
DIFFICULTIES.
The scene is a handsomely decorated and elegantly furnished morning-room at SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY's, with every evidence of luxury and refined taste. It is a July morning.
SIR JULIAN is playing his flute. MR. MELTON, a good-looking, well-dressed young man, enters carrying a few sheets of paper.
MR. MELTON.
Pardon me. [SIR JULIAN's flute gives a squeak.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Oh, Melton?
MR. MELTON.
The arrangements for this morning are quite complete, Sir Julian.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
The arrangements?
MR. MELTON.
The arrangements for the opening of the new street.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Oh, to be sure; I open the new street to-day. Why on earth shouldn't a new street be opened by a policeman during the night, quietly?
[The DOWAGER LADY DRUMDURRIS, fas.h.i.+onably dressed for out-of-doors, enters.]
DOWAGER.
[In a flutter.] Julian, good-morning. A glorious day for the ceremony, Mr. Melton. Is everything arranged?
MR. MELTON.
