DY FILSON.

Shocking!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Blowing._] Pfhh! [_Folding the gloves neatly._] I am almost glad, in
the circumstances, that I didn't regard it as an event which laid me
under an obligation to send flowers.

LADY FILSON.

[_With a change of tone._] Er--Randle----

SIR RANDLE.

[_Putting his gloves into his tail-pocket._] Yes, dear.

LADY FILSON.

[_Significantly._] Sir Timothy is upstairs.

SIR RANDLE.

Sir Timothy Barradell?

LADY FILSON.

[_Nodding._] With Ottoline, in her sitting-room.

SIR RANDLE.

Indeed?

LADY FILSON.

He brought a note for her half-an-hour ago, evidently asking her to
receive him.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Going to_ LADY FILSON.] An early call!

LADY FILSON.

Extremely.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Sitting near her, in the arm-chair on the left of the settee, and
pursing his lips._] It may mean nothing.

LADY FILSON.

Oh, nothing.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Examining his nails._] A nice, amiable fellow.

LADY FILSON.

Full of fine qualities, if I'm any judge of character.

SIR RANDLE.

None the worse for being self-made, Winnie.

LADY FILSON.

Not in _my_ estimation.

SIR RANDLE.

H'm, h'm, h'm, h'm----!

LADY FILSON.

[_Softly._] It wouldn't _sound_ bad, Randle.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes._] "Lady Barradell."

LADY FILSON.

[_In the same way._] "Lady Barradell."

SIR RANDLE.

[_In a murmur, but with great gusto._] "A marriage is arranged and will
shortly take place between Sir Timothy Barradell, Bart., of 16, The
Albany, and Bryanstown Park, County Wicklow, and Ottoline, widow of the
late Comte de Chaumie, only daughter of Sir Randle and Lady Filson, of
71, Ennismore Gardens, and Pickhurst, Bramsfold, Sussex."

LADY FILSON.

[_After a short pause, in a low voice._] Darling Ottolin