CONTAREEN. She refused me very decidedly. (_sits on settee_ R.)
MOLLEN. My poor Rosamund is a widow. (_up_ L. C. _across_ C. _and down_ R. C.) Also she has had the advantage of correcting my proof-sheets. She has read that passion wins maids, and perseverance widows. She follows the rule. Do the same!
MOLLEN. Every siege must be conducted on scientific principles. You should now be back in your trenches. Digging, sir--digging!
CONTAREEN. (_eagerly_) Look here, Lady Pentruddock has asked me down to her place in Shropshire.
CONTAREEN. Her sister will be there--Muriel, I mean, not Gladys. Muriel has charm.
CONTAREEN. Your daughter knows Lady Muriel. When she learns that I shall be under the same roof with that fascinating person--eh?
MOLLEN. (_to_ L. _of table_ C.) I see, I see. Well--(_he ponders_)
CONTAREEN. If I tell Lady Claude that I--er--accept her decision cheerfully--eh?--and inform her that I--Lady Muriel--don't you think?
MOLLEN. (_judicially_) The idea has merit.
CONTAREEN. (_humbly_) I got it out of the book.
MOLLEN. Of course. That goes without saying. (_sit_ L. _of table_ C.) Well, no harm can be done. Though a line to me, from Pentruddock Castle would have been better.
CONTAREEN. Perhaps. But still--I say, you're backing me up?
MOLLEN. I'm supporting you admirably. I have repeatedly expressed my delight at her having refused you.
MOLLEN. I dwell with satisfaction on the prospect of not seeing you again--
MOLLEN. And have more than once hinted at a past that is probably strewn with forlorn Nancies and Janes--
MOLLEN. "To kindle the flame of love in the feminine bosom"--I quote from the fifteenth chapter--(_he presses the bell_) "the third party should vehemently, and persistently, denounce the person whom he desires to see enthroned."
MOLLEN. Leave it to me, my dear fellow, leave it to me! I tell you it works like a charm!
MOLLEN. Inform Lady Claude that Lord Contareen is here, and ask her to be good enough to descend.
MOLLEN. Now see--when Rosamund comes, I shall retire into the back room there, and write a letter. I shall give you three minutes. Then you take your leave.
CONTAREEN. Quite so. Three minutes will do!
MOLLEN. And remember--be sprightly! Not a trace of acidity! Persiflage is good--in moderation--_Bring_ in Lady Pentruddock's sister--but don't _drag_ her in! You understand?