SIR F. He's gone at last! I ought to have been born in an atmosphere of diplomacy to develop my talent for intrigue! Ha, ha, ha! how this "little game" of mine will astonish them! But they all want waking up in this house! Cosey's an old hedgehog, all prickles and prejudices! Arthur's--never mind what! Myrtle's a crab-apple--pleasant to look at, but occasionally rather tart to the taste! (_here LADY FRITTERLY enters at door L., unperceived by SIR FELIX_). As for my wife (_here LADY F. stops and listens_), she's a charming woman; but she has one fault, for which I'd gladly exchange a good many of her virtues--she's so dreadfully proper! Shall I take her into my confidence? No! she hates jokes--especially mine. How she will stare when Arthur opens his _batteries!_--ha--ha!--run away with my wife!--the notion's too absurd. LADY F. (_aside_). Indeed! So, so, husband of mine!--(_comes down and taps SIR FELIX on the shoulder_). Felix! SIR F. (_turning_). Grace! (_Aside._) I wonder if she overheard! LADY F. You seem merry!--laughing at your own jokes? Quite right you should, for nobody else does! SIR F. Thank you! (_Aside._) All right! she didn't hear anything. Perhaps I'd better prepare her, just a little bit, or she might petrify poor Arthur with one of her tragedy looks before he opens his mouth, and then he'd take to his heels to a certainty! (_Aloud._) By-the-bye, my dear Grace, have you noticed anything peculiar in young Vallance's behavior lately? LADY F. No; he seems as apathetic as ever; he may, perhaps, have shown a little more attention to me than usual (_with intention_). SIR F. (_aside_). The deuce he has! I wonder what she'll say presently when he comes out with his "agony" and "despair?" (_Aloud._) I don't mean his behavior to _you_--but to Myrtle! He's not half so spooney--I mean attentive--as he used to be, and I fear there's a reason for it! (_with significance_). LADY F. Indeed! SIR F. Yes! he _may_ be smitten with _somebody_ else! At _his_ age the affections are fickle, volatile--skipping like a flea-- LADY F. Felix! SIR F. I mean _sipping like a bee_ from flower to flower! Myrtle is young--very young; but even youth like hers _may_ become insipid! The love of every precocious boy of fifteen is a woman of _thirty!_ I began at twelve! LADY F. A woman of thirty--_my_ age! Understand, sir, that no woman cares to be reminded of her age when she is turned thirty, any more than that she wears false hair! Your remark, therefore, is scarcely polite; but with your wife it appears you consider no such politeness necessary! SIR F. Politeness! My dear Grace, what is politeness, after all?--merely the gloss of society! I suppose you'll admit that the shiny stuff they put on the top of the buns doesn't make them taste any the sweeter? LADY F. Spare me your absurd similes, and don't mistake flippancy for wit!