RANDLE.

SIR TIMOTHY.

[_Mournfully but good-humouredly._] Ha! _That's_ over.

LADY FILSON.

Over?

SIR RANDLE.

Over?

SIR TIMOTHY.

Over. [_Passing_ LADY FILSON _and shaking hands with_ SIR RANDLE.] It
might be that it 'ud be more decent and appropriate for me to write you
a letter, Sir Randle; but I'm not much of a hand at letter-writing, and
I've your daughter's permission to tell you by word of mouth that--that
she--[_to_ LADY FILSON] but perhaps you can guess, both of you----?

LADY FILSON.

Guess----?

SIR RANDLE.

Guess----?

SIR TIMOTHY.

[_Rumpling his hair._] The fact is, it isn't exactly easy or agreeable
to describe what's occurred in plain terms.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Encouragingly._] Can't you--can't you give us a hint----?

LADY FILSON.

The merest hint----

SIR TIMOTHY.

Hint, is it! Ah, I can manage that. [_With a bold effort._] You're not
to have me for your son-in-law. Is that hint enough?

LADY FILSON.

[_Under her breath._] Oh!

SIR RANDLE.

God bless me! Frankly, I had no conception----

LADY FILSON.

Nor I--the faintest.

SIR TIMOTHY.

And as I've received a great deal of kindness and hospitality in this
house, I thought that, in common gratitude, I ought to explain the
cause of my abrupt disappearance from your circle.

SIR RANDLE.

[_In a tone of deep commiseration._] I--I understand. You--you intend
to----?

SIR TIMOTHY.

To take a trip round the world, to endeavour to recover some of the
wind that's been knocked out of me.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Closing his eyes._] Distressing! Distressing!

LADY FILSON.

Most. [_Coming to_ SIR TIMOTHY, _feelingly._] Oh--oh, Sir Timothy----!

SIR TIMOTHY.

[_With sudden bitterness._] Ah, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy!
And what's the use of my baronetcy _now_, will you inform me--the
baronetcy I bought and paid for, in hard cash, to better my footing in