[_His welcome dies away as they all pass on without seeming to notice any one but MR. and MRS. WACKERBATH, who advance from the left to receive them. PRINGLE retreats slightly, and looks on in speechless indignation._ MR. WACKERBATH. My dear Mrs. Futvoye, delighted to see you--delighted! [_As MRS. FUTVOYE greets MRS. WACKERBATH, to SYLVIA._] And this smart young woman is my little god-daughter, eh? How d'ye do, my dear? [_To PROFESSOR._] And how is our excellent Professor? [_They converse in by-play; MRS. WACKERBATH takes MRS. FUTVOYE to sofa on left; SYLVIA goes up towards arch to a place from which she can see neither HORACE nor PRINGLE._ MRS. WACKERBATH. [_To MRS. FUTVOYE, as they seat themselves._] Dearest Sophia! We meet so seldom now! MRS. FUTVOYE. We do indeed, Eliza! [_They talk in undertones._ PRINGLE. [_By fireplace, to himself, with the deepest disgust._] First my room, and then my guests! MR. WACKERBATH. [_Turning to MRS. FUTVOYE, as the PROFESSOR joins SYLVIA._] I want to introduce a friend of ours--very rising young fellow----[_He looks round for HORACE, and discovers him by the flower stand._] Ah, _there_ he is--Mr. Ventimore. [_HORACE pulls himself together and comes forward, not in the least knowing what reception to expect._] Mr. Ventimore, Mrs. Anthony Futvoye. [_HORACE bows in considerable anxiety._ MRS. FUTVOYE. Why, my dear Mr. Wackerbath, we know one another quite well already! [_To HORACE, laughing._] Don't we, Horace? [_HORACE takes her hand with obvious relief._ SYLVIA. [_Coming down smiling, between MR. WACKERBATH and HORACE._] How are you, Horace? [_HORACE shakes hands warmly with her._ PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. [_Approaching as MR. WACKERBATH turns to his wife and MRS. FUTVOYE, to HORACE not over cordially, but without asperity._] How are you, Ventimore? Curious we should meet like this! We were talking about you on our way here--that little dinner of yours, you know. HORACE. [_With reviving anxiety._] That--little dinner, Professor? SYLVIA. Yes, Horace, we _couldn't_ remember which night it is we're dining with you--is it to-morrow, or the night after? HORACE. [_Relieved again._] Oh, it's to-morrow--to-morrow! [_PRINGLE has heard all this with a contempt and disgust that are indicated by his expression._ SYLVIA.