LARK. No matter! well, I suddenly remarked what a fascinating person
she was----
WOOD. Mrs. Larkings?
LARK. No, Mrs. Swansdown! I used to say all sorts of stupid things to
her----
WOOD. That I'll be bound to say you did; well, there's no great harm
in that!
LARK. No, but that's not all--not that I meant any harm--well, after a
luncheon of grilled chicken and champagne, this afternoon--I don't
know how the deuce it happened, but I've a sort of stupid, misty
recollection of writing a stupid sort of letter, full of doves and
loves, and Cupid's darts and bleeding hearts--you know what I
mean--which letter, I'm under a very strong impression, Mrs. Swansdown
will find on her dressing table when she gets home to-night.
WOOD. Mr. Larkings!
LARK. Yes, yes, it was a stupid thing to do, I know, and I heartily
wish I had the confounded letter back, but it's too late now, and
after all, I meant no harm. (_polka music heard_) There's the polka! I
mustn't keep Mrs. Woodcock waiting. Good bye! (_going_)
WOOD. Stop!
_LARKINGS runs out at C. to L._
Catch me leaving Mrs. Woodcock alone for a single moment! No, no, I'll
stick to her like her shadow. I'll revel in Redowas! I'll plunge into
polkas! I'll have a shy at the sausages--I mean Schottisches! (_here
the polka music becomes louder_) I don't half like my wife's skipping
about with that fellow now; if I could only manage to get her away.
(_looking at clock, which is in a conspicuous part of the stage_) Only
a quarter past one. (_after a short pause_) That clock's too slow.
(_lounging up stage, assuming an unconcerned manner and humming a
tune--when near the clock, looks right and left, then jumps up into a
chair, puts the clock on one hour, and jumps off chair again--then
taking out his watch_) Hey-day! my watch is an hour too slow by that
clock, and I know there isn't a better clock in England. (_putting his
watch on an hour, then hastily thrusting it into his pocket, aside_)
Just in time!
_Enter MRS. WOODCOCK, at C. from L._
MRS. W. Still here, my dear? Why don't you come into the ball-room?
WOOD. I will presently--there's plenty of time! It's quite early yet!
(_seeing that he is standing between MRS. WOODCOCK and the clock,
moves aside_) I repeat, it's _quite early yet!_ (_pointedly, and
looking at clock_)
MRS. W. (_seeing clock_) Eh? Can it be possible? Twenty minutes past
two?
WOOD. Oh! that clock's too fast! Look here! (_taking out his watch_)
Holloa! Why it's half-past two! That clock's too slow.
MRS. W. How the time slips away!
WOOD. Yes! the last hour's gone remarkably fast.
_Music--some five or six couples, including MRS. LARKINGS and MRS.
CARVER, come in at C., dancing the polka--the last couple
consisting of MRS. CARVER and a very YOUNG MAN--polka ceases._
WOOD. (_who has gone to door, L._) Ticket No. 81--two opera cloaks--a
hat--a comforter--an Inverness cape!