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Come in, my boy. You're just in time to give a parting grasp of the hand to our friend here.
BERTRAM.
[_Advancing to_ SIR TIMOTHY, _surprised._] Parting----?
LADY FILSON.
[_To_ BERTRAM.] Sir Timothy is going abroad, Bertram.
BERTRAM.
Really? [_To_ SIR TIMOTHY.] Er--on business?
SIR TIMOTHY.
Well, not precisely on pleasure. [_Shaking hands with_ BERTRAM.]
Good-bye to you.
BERTRAM.
[_Puzzled._] Good-bye. [SIR TIMOTHY _makes a final bow to_ LADY FILSON _and departs, followed by_ SIR RANDLE, _who leaves the door open._ BERTRAM _turns to_ LADY FILSON _inquiringly._] What----?
LADY FILSON.
[_Pointing to the open door._] H'sh!
[BERTRAM _shuts the door and_ LADY FILSON _seats herself upon the settee on the right._
BERTRAM.
[_Coming to her._] What has happened, mother?
LADY FILSON.
What I conjectured. I was certain of it.
BERTRAM.
He _has_ proposed to my sister?
LADY FILSON.
Yes.
BERTRAM.
[_Struck by his mother's manner._] She has refused him?
LADY FILSON.
[_Nodding._] She's _eprise_ with another man.
BERTRAM.
Who is it?
LADY FILSON.
She didn't----
BERTRAM.
Is it Trefusis?
LADY FILSON.
_I_ believe it's Delacour.
BERTRAM.
[_Walking about._] Possibly! Possibly!
LADY FILSON.
[_Anxiously._] I do hope she realizes what she's doing, Bertram. Sir Timothy could buy them both up, with something to spare.
BERTRAM.
I agree, my dear mother; but it would have been horribly offensive to _us_, I mean t'say, to see the name of Ottoline's husband branded upon sides of bacon in the windows of the provision-shops.
LADY FILSON.
Oh, disgusting! [_Brightening._] How sensibly you look at things, darling!
BERTRAM.
[_Taking up a position before the fireplace._] Whereas George Delacour and Edward Trefusis are undeniably gentlemen--gentlemen by birth and breeding, I mean t'say.
LADY FILSON.
Trefusis is connected, through his brother, with the Northcrofts!
BERTRAM.
Quite so. If Ottoline married Edward, she would be Lady Juliet's sister-in-law.
LADY FILSON.
Upon my word, Bertie, I don't know _which_ of the two I'd rather it turned out to be!
