Mr. RIVENLUTE _is on a chair by the open window_; Mrs.
RIVENLUTE _on a low stool by his side_.
_Mrs. R._ (_for the fiftieth time_). I can't _ever_ thank you _nearly_
enough for this _lovely_ ring, JACK dear!
_Jack_ (_rather gruffly_). Oh, it's all right, Pussy. Glad you like
it, I'm sure. Do they mean to bring in the lamps? It's pitch dark.
_Mrs. R._ I'll ring presently--not just yet. It was so _dear_ of you
to remember what day it was!
_Jack_ (_who only just remembered it in time, as he was driving
home_). Been a brute if I hadn't!
_Mrs. R._ You _couldn't_ be a brute, JACK, if you tried--not to _me._
I'm so glad we haven't got to go out anywhere to-night, aren't _you_?
_Jack_ (_heartily_). Rather! Beastly bore turning out after dinner.
What on earth are you up to over there?
_Mrs. R._ (_who has risen, and has apparently been winding up some
instrument in the corner--as she returns_). Oh, it's only something I
wanted to do this evening.... Now, JACK, listen!
[_The phonograph begins to click and whirr._
_Jack_. That beastly cat in the room again! Turn it out quick--it's
going to be ill.
_Mrs. R._ (_laughing a little hysterically_). No--no, JACK, it isn't
poor Snowball this time! Wait, and you will hear something.
[_The "Voice that Breathed o'er Eden" is suddenly rendered by an organ
and full choir: the remarks of two choristers (who are having a
little difference over a hymn-book), and the subdued sniffs of MRS.
MANDOLINE, being distinctly audible between the verses._
_Mrs. R._ (_breaking down_). Oh, JACK, isn't it beautiful? Wasn't it
_sweet_ of Uncle JOHN to give it to us!
_Jack_ (_who, privately, would have infinitely preferred a small
cheque_). Yes--he's a good old buffer at bottom.
_Mrs. R._ He's a perfect old _love_! Tell me, JACK, you're not _sorry_
you married me, _are_ you?
_Jack._ What a thing to ask a fellow Of _course_ I'm not!
_Mrs. R._ (_softly_). Do you know, JACK, I'm sometimes sorry I married
_you_, though.
_Jack_ (_uneasily_). Come, I _say_, you know--what on earth for?
_Mrs. R._ Because I should like to marry you all over again!... Ah,
I _knew_ I should frighten you! (_The final "Amen" of the Choir dies
away, amid the coughing, rustling, and nasal trumpeting of last year's
Congregation._) There are some more cylinders, JACK--shall we put them
in next?
_Jack_ (_who feels sufficiently solemnised_). Well, if you ask me, I
think they'll keep till next year. Pity to disturb the effect of that
last, eh?