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This has "Universal News Agency" written in the corner of it.
SIR RANDLE.
[_Holding out his hand for the paper, faintly._] Oh----!
PHILIP.
[_Ignoring_ SIR RANDLE's _hand--reading._] "The extraordinary stir, which we venture to prophesy will not soon be eclipsed, made by Mr.
Philip Mackworth's recent novel, 'The Big Drum,' lends additional interest to the announcement of his forthcoming marriage to the beautiful Madame de Chaumie--" [_The bell rings. He listens to it, and then goes on reading._] "--the beautiful Madame de Chaumie, daughter of the widely and deservedly popular--the widely and deservedly popular Sir Randle and Lady Filson----"
[_After reading it to the end silently, he restores the paper to_ SIR RANDLE _with a smile and a slight bow._
SIR RANDLE.
[_Collecting himself._] Er--Lady Filson and I thought it might be prudent, Philip, to--er--to give a lead to the inevitable comments of the press. [_Replacing the paper in his pocket-book._] If you object, my dear boy----
PHILIP.
[_With a motion of the head towards the vestibule door._] That must _be_ Lady Filson and Ottoline.
[_He goes to the door and opens it._ LADY FILSON _and_ OTTOLINE _are in the vestibule and_ JOHN _is taking_ LADY FILSON's _wrap from her._
LADY FILSON.
[_Br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with good humour._] Ah, Philip! Don't say we're late!
PHILIP.
[_Lightly._] I won't.
LADY FILSON.
[_Entering and shaking hands with him._] Your staircase is so dark, it takes an age to climb it. [_To_ ROOPE, _who comes forward, shaking hands with him._] How nice! Ottoline told me, coming along, that we were to meet you.
ROOPE.
[_Bending over her hand._] Dear lady!
LADY FILSON.
[_Coming to_ SIR RANDLE.] There you are, Randle! [_Nodding to_ BERTRAM, _who is sitting aloof in the chair on the extreme left._] Bertie darling! [SIR RANDLE _rises._] Aren't these rooms quaint and cosy, Randle?
SIR RANDLE.
[_Still somewhat disconcerted._] For a solitary man, ideal. [_Solemnly._]
If ever I had the misfortune to be left alone in the world----
LADY FILSON.
[_Sitting on the settee on the right._] Ho, my _dear_!
[PHILIP _has joined_ OTTOLINE _in the vestibule. He now follows her into the room, shutting the vestibule door.
She is elegantly dressed in white and, though she has recovered her usual stateliness and composure, is a picture of radiant happiness._
OTTOLINE.
[_Giving her hand to_ ROOPE, _who raises it to his lips--sweetly._] I am glad you are home, Robbie, and that you are here to-night. [_To_ LADY FILSON _and_ SIR RANDLE.] Mother--Dad--[_espying_ BERTRAM] oh, and there's Bertram--don't be scandalized, any of you! [_To_ ROOPE, _resting her hands on his shoulders._] _Une fois de plus, mon ami, pour vous temoigner ma grat.i.tude!_
[_She kisses him._ LADY FILSON _laughs indulgently, and_ SIR RANDLE, _wagging his head, moves to the fireplace._
ROOPE.
Ha, ha, ha----!
OTTOLINE.
Ha, ha, ha! [_Going to the fireplace._] Ah, what a lovely fire! [_To_ SIR RANDLE, _as_ ROOPE _seats himself in the chair by the smoking-table and prepares to make himself agreeable to_ LADY FILSON.] Share it with me, Dad, and let me warm my toes before dinner. I'm frozen!
PHILIP.
[_Coming to the middle of the room._] My dear Ottoline--Lady Filson--Sir Randle--I fear we shall _all_ have time to warm our toes before dinner. [ROOPE, _who is about to address a remark to_ LADY FILSON, _puts his hand to his mouth, and_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON _look at_ PHILIP _inquiringly._] You mustn't blame me wholly for the hitch in my poor entertainment----
LADY FILSON.
[_Amiably._] The kitchen! I guess your difficulties, Philip----
PHILIP.
No, nor my kitchen either----
OTTOLINE.
[_Turning the chair on the nearer side of the fireplace so that it faces the fire._] The cook wasn't punctual! [_Installing herself in the chair._] _Ah, la, la! Ces cuisinieres causent la moitie des ennuis sur cette terre!_
PHILIP.
Oh, yes, the cook was punctual. [_His manner hardening a little._] The truth is, we are waiting for a Mr. Dunning.
LADY FILSON.
Mr.----?
SIR RANDLE.
Mr.----?
OTTOLINE.
