[_Under her breath._] Oh! SIR RANDLE. God bless me! Frankly, I had no conception---- LADY FILSON. Nor I--the faintest. SIR TIMOTHY. And as I've received a great deal of kindness and hospitality in this house, I thought that, in common gratitude, I ought to explain the cause of my abrupt disappearance from your circle. SIR RANDLE. [_In a tone of deep commiseration._] I--I understand. You--you intend to----? SIR TIMOTHY. To take a trip round the world, to endeavour to recover some of the wind that's been knocked out of me. SIR RANDLE. [_Closing his eyes._] Distressing! Distressing! LADY FILSON. Most. [_Coming to_ SIR TIMOTHY, _feelingly._] Oh--oh, Sir Timothy----! SIR TIMOTHY. [_With sudden bitterness._] Ah, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy! And what's the use of my baronetcy _now_, will you inform me--the baronetcy I bought and paid for, in hard cash, to better my footing in society? The mockery of it! Now that I've lost _her_, the one woman I shall ever love, I don't care a rap for my footing in society; [_walking away_] and anybody may have my baronetcy for tuppence! SIR RANDLE. [_Reprovingly._] My good friend----! SIR TIMOTHY. [_Turning to_ SIR RANDLE _and_ LADY FILSON.] And why not! The only advantage of my baronetcy, it strikes me, is that I'm charged double prices at every hotel I lay my head in, and am expected to shower gold on the waiters. [_Sitting on the settee on the right and leaning his head on his hand._] Oh, the mockery of it; the mockery of it! SIR RANDLE. [_Going to him._] If my profound sympathy--and Lady Filson's--[_to_ LADY FILSON] I may speak for you, Winnie----? LADY FILSON. Certainly. SIR RANDLE. [_To_ SIR TIMOTHY.] If our profound sympathy is the smallest consolation to you---- SIR TIMOTHY. [_Emphatically, raising his head._] It is _not_. [_With a despairing gesture._] I'm broken-hearted, Sir Randle. That's what I am; I'm broken-hearted. LADY FILSON. [_Sitting in the low-backed arm-chair on the left._] Oh, dear! SIR TIMOTHY.