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I didn't see clearly then--the egg-julep was in my eyes. But now Lady Macphail is running after me, from one room to another, because she declares I must fulfil the destiny of a Macphail's betrothed and lead the Strathspey by his side. But I won't dance a deception before a room full of people!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Imogen, there is nothing for you but this marriage or contemptible, cleanly poverty.
IMOGEN.
Poverty!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Child, you are young to be told these things--but what do you think is likely to happen to pa and me?
IMOGEN.
Mamma, keep nothing from me.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
In all probability we shall grow our own vegetables.
IMOGEN.
Oh! What for?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
_For_ dinner. And, oh, Imogen, have pity on your mother! I can face contemptible, cleanly poverty with pa alone, but if I see my innocent chicks sharing our miseries every cabbage in our garden will grow up with a broken heart!
[She embraces IMOGEN. LADY MACPHAIL enters with MACPHAIL.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Miss Twombley, Lord Drumdurris's guests are politely waiting till you are pleased to lead the Strathspey with the Macphail.
MACPHAIL.
Miss Twombley.
IMOGEN.
[Quietly to LADY TWOMBLEY.] Mamma!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[To herself.] No telegram from town. [To IMOGEN.] Imogen, you had better not lose your dance.
[With a slight courtesy to MACPHAIL, IMOGEN gives him her arm as VALENTINE enters, trimmed, shaven, and in immaculate evening dress.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Why, Val!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Mr. White!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen!
IMOGEN.
[Leaving MACPHAIL.] Valentine!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Valentine White!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen, am I too late?
IMOGEN.
Too late?
VALENTINE WHITE.
For the honor of dancing with you to-night?
IMOGEN.
You--you are in time, Valentine.
VALENTINE WHITE.
For which dance?
IMOGEN.
This dance.
MACPHAIL.
Mother!
DOWAGER.
