COMTESSE. My petite!
SYBIL. I believe I mean it.
COMTESSE. Oh, it is quite my conception of your character. Do you
know, I am rather sorry for this Mr. John Shand.
SYBIL [opening her fine eyes]. Why? He is quite a boor, is he not?
COMTESSE. For that very reason. Because his great hour is already
nearly sped. That wild bull manner that moves the multitude--they
will laugh at it in your House of Commons.
SYBIL [indifferent]. I suppose so.
COMTESSE. Yet if he had education---
SYBIL. Have we not been hearing how superbly he is educated?
COMTESSE. It is such as you or me that he needs to educate him now.
You could do it almost too well.
SYBIL [with that pretty stretch of neck]. I am not sufficiently
interested. I retire in your favour. How would you begin?
COMTESSE. By asking him to drop in, about five, of course. By the
way, I wonder is there a Mrs. Shand?
SYBIL. I have no idea. But they marry young.
COMTESSE. If there is not, there is probably a lady waiting for him,
somewhere in a boiler.
SYBIL. I dare say.
[MAGGIE descends.]
MAGGIE. Mr. Shand will be down directly.
COMTESSE. Thank you. Your brother has been giving us such an
interesting account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said
that he was married.
MAGGIE. No, he's not married; but he will be soon.
COMTESSE. Ah! [She is merely making conversation.
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