~George~ (_to the audience_). I have just come back for my pocket-handkerchief. I must have dropped it in here somewhere. (_He begins to search for it, and in the ordinary course of things comes upon_ Isobel _on the sofa. He puts his rifle down carefully on a table, with the muzzle pointing at the prompter rather than at the audience, and staggers back._) Merciful heavens! Isobel! Dead! (_He falls on his knees beside the sofa._) My love, speak to me! ~Isobel~ (_softly_). George! ~George.~ She is alive! Isobel! ~Isobel.~ Don't go, George! ~George.~ My dear, I love you! But when I heard that you were another's, honour compelled me---- ~Isobel~ (_sitting up quickly_). What do you mean by another's? ~George.~ You said you were engaged! ~Isobel~ (_suddenly realising how the dreadful misunderstanding arose which nearly wrecked two lives_). But I only meant I was engaged to play tennis with Lady Carbrook! ~George.~ What a fool I have been! (_He hurries on before the audience can assent._) Then, Isobel, you _will_ be mine? ~Isobel.~ Yes, George. And you won't go and shoot nasty bears, will you, dear? Not even grizzly ones? ~George~ (_taking her in his arms_). Never, darling. That was only (_turning to the audience with the air of one who is making his best point_) ~A slight misunderstanding.~ CURTAIN. XLII. "MISS PRENDERGAST" _As the curtain goes up two ladies are discovered in the morning-room of Honeysuckle Lodge engaged in work of a feminine nature._ Miss Alice Prendergast _is doing something delicate with a crochet-hook, but it is obvious that her thoughts are far away. She sighs at intervals and occasionally lays down her work and presses both hands to her heart. A sympathetic audience will have no difficulty in guessing that she is in love. On the other hand, her elder sister_, Miss Prendergast, _is completely wrapped up in a sock for one of the poorer classes, over which she frowns formidably. The sock, however, has no real bearing upon the plot, and she must not make too much of it._ ~Alice~ (_hiding her emotions_). Did you have a pleasant dinner-party last night, Jane? ~Jane~ (_to herself_). Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. (_Looking up._) Very pleasant indeed, Alice. The Blizzards were there, and the Podbys, and the Slumphs. (_These people are not important and should not be over-emphasised._) Mrs. Podby's maid has given notice. ~Alice.~ Who took you in? ~Jane~ (_brightening up_). Such an interesting man, my dear. He talked most agreeably about Art during dinner, and we renewed the conversation in the drawing-room. We found that we agreed upon all the main principles of Art, considered as such.