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[_She goes into the hall and he stands watching her till she disappears. Then he closes the door and faces_ LADY FILSON _and_ SIR RANDLE.
SIR TIMOTHY.
[_Mournfully but good-humouredly._] Ha! _That's_ over.
LADY FILSON.
Over?
SIR RANDLE.
Over?
SIR TIMOTHY.
Over. [_Pa.s.sing_ 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.
G.o.d 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 grat.i.tude, 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 society? The mockery of it! Now that I've lost _her_, the one woman I shall ever love, I don't care a rap for my footing in society; [_walking away_] and anybody may have my baronetcy for tuppence!
SIR RANDLE.
[_Reprovingly._] My good friend----!
SIR TIMOTHY.
[_Turning to_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON.] And why not! The only advantage of my baronetcy, it strikes me, is that I'm charged double prices at every hotel I lay my head in, and am expected to shower gold on the waiters. [_Sitting on the settee on the right and leaning his head on his hand._] Oh, the mockery of it; the mockery of it!
SIR RANDLE.
[_Going to him._] If my profound sympathy--and Lady Filson's--[_to_ LADY FILSON] I may speak for you, Winnie----?
LADY FILSON.
Certainly.
SIR RANDLE.
[_To_ SIR TIMOTHY.] If our profound sympathy is the smallest consolation to you----
