(CHARLIE CHEYNE _and his sister_ Mrs CLARE GRAHAM _are seated_.)
Mrs CLARE GRAHAM. Now I have told you the whole story surely you don't
intend to proceed with your absurd courtship?
CHARLIE. I mean to marry Dora, if that's what you're driving at.
Mrs CLARE GRAHAM. It's impossible! However much she wanted to accept she
would be bound--as a matter of honour--to refuse.
CHARLIE (_stroking his chin contemplatively_). After all, marriage is
merely a matter of form, and if it pleases Dora----
Mrs CLARE GRAHAM (_warmly_). To please Dora you'll let Jane's boy
inherit the estates?
CHARLIE. Still, Dora loves me, and she will do anything I ask.
Mrs CLARE GRAHAM (_rising irately to leave the room_). I tell you she
won't! Women with convictions are obstinate as Cork pigs.
(_Enter_ DORA _in a Parisian bonnet._)
CHARLIE. Oh, Dora, here you are! We've been expecting you for hours.
DORA. I'm afraid I've disturbed the conversation; I see Clare is
ruffled.
Mrs CLARE GRAHAM (_abruptly_). No, I was going out. Good-bye. (_She goes
out._)
DORA. She is in a huff with me about something. Why?
CHARLIE (_hesitatingly_). No--that is--she was angry with me.
DORA. About?
CHARLIE. Oh, because you and I agree with each other so well on all
subjects, marriage included.
DORA (_pressing his hand_). My beloved!
CHARLIE. I said it was a rotten institution--or something of the kind.