MRS. L. Very well! I'll wait 'till the half hour has
expired--patiently, very patiently, (_tearing her handkerchief_) if
the letter doesn't come, I'll go to Mr. Swansdown for it--yes--late as
it is, I will! and you'll go with me, won't you? (_imploringly_)
MRS. C. Yes, we'll go together; in the meantime, come with me into the
ball room--everybody has doubtless left by this time, and you'll find
a glass or two of sherry and a few sponge cakes a great support in
your affliction. Come!
_Exeunt at C. to L.--MRS. CARVER supporting MRS. LARKINGS, at the
same moment the door, L., slowly opens, and WOODCOCK peeps in,
then speaks off._
WOOD. The coast is clear; you can come in.
_Enter LARKINGS with his right arm in a sling--SWANSDOWN
following, evidently very much out of temper--takes a chair, bangs
it down on stage, and falls into it, L._
LARK. (_R., pressing his right arm_) How confoundedly painful my arm
is.
WOOD. (_C., soothingly_) Yes! I daresay it smarts a little!
SWANS. (_dashing his hat down on stage_) I'm disgusted! yes, disgusted
that this stupid ridiculous duel should have occurred! (_to LARKINGS_)
Why the deuce didn't you tell me you were sorry for what you'd
done--that you meant no harm? my feelings wouldn't have been wounded!
LARK. (_pressing his wounded arm_) Nor mine either! but that's not the
worst of it--if Mrs. Larkings discovers what has taken place, do you
know what she'll do? She'll leave London and bury me alive in the
country for the rest of my existence.
WOOD. (_aside_) Good gracious! I wonder if Mrs. Woodcock would serve
_me_ the same if _I_ were to--by jingo! it's worth thinking about.
(_aloud_) But how _is_ Mrs. Larkings to know anything about it? _I_
shan't betray you--Swansdown won't--you won't betray yourself?
LARK. No; but my wounded arm will! besides there's that unlucky letter
of mine, which Swansdown has promised to send to my wife.
SWANS. (_producing letter_) Here it is. If I _don't_ send it, what can
I say?
WOOD. (_taking the letter_) Say? why--that you made a mistake in the
handwriting--that it wasn't Larkings's after all!--but somebody
else's!--anybody's--(_suddenly_)--_Mine!_
LARK. _and_ }
} Yours?
SWANS. }
WOOD. Yes! What's the consequence? When it's known that you and I have
been fighting, no one will imagine it's on account of Mrs. Swansdown,
consequently her reputation will be saved!
SWANS. True! but zounds then! what have we been fighting about?
WOOD. Eh? oh, for the fun of the thing! or else some difference of
opinion--(_suddenly_)--the war in America! that's the very thing!
you're for the Federates! I'm for the Confederals!--that'll do
famously--it'll save _you_ (_to SWANSDOWN_) from being laughed at;
_you_ (_to LARKINGS_) from being buried alive in the country.
SWANS. }
} And you?
LARK. }
WOOD. Never mind me. Woodcock's got a little game of his own.
(_aside_) It's a capital idea--a sublime idea! (_to SWANSDOWN_) Now go
home; and spread the report of our duel right and left; mention it at
your butcher's, baker's, and candlestick maker's--in short everywhere;
and don't forget you're a Confederal--I mean--never mind; go along.
_SWANSDOWN hurries out at L._
LARK. But I say, what the deuce is to become of me in the matter?
WOOD. Eh? I have it; you've been my second.
LARK. Very well? then I can go to Mrs. Larkings.
WOOD. Yes. Stop! take that sling off.