MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Yes? MACPHAIL. That you'd better let go my arm now. MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Sir Colin! MACPHAIL. I've no personal objection, you understand; but mother's always looking for me. MRS. GAYLUSTRE. How thoughtless I am! [He walks away.] Sir Colin! MACPHAIL. Aye? MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Your mother is driving you to contract this marriage with Miss Twombley. MACPHAIL. Well, mother's just making the arrangements. MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Your great heart hasn't gone out to her! Unhappiness must ensue! Your bright career will be dimmed! MACPHAIL. Will be _what?_ MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Dimmed. What did you think I said? Oh, Sir Colin, don't carry this unsuitable bride to Ballocheevin! MACPHAIL. Well, it's a serious step; but I've been thinking it would be another in the house. MRS. GAYLUSTRE. You don't want another in the house. You need a strong, self-reliant wife who will take you out of the house. MACPHAIL. Eh? MRS. GAYLUSTRE. A woman, loving but firm, tender but enterprising, who will bear you from your dilapidated home and plunge you into the vortex of some great city. [Suddenly.] Have you ever been to Paris? MACPHAIL. No. MRS. GAYLUSTRE. I know every inch of it! MACPHAIL. Madam! MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Oh, what have I said! Sir Colin, you have guessed my secret! [MACPHAIL produces his ball-programme from his stocking and refers to it.] MACPHAIL. I'm engaged to Miss Kilbouie for this waltz, if you'll excuse me. MRS. GAYLUSTRE. [Holding out her hand to him.] Colin. MACPHAIL. I'm thinking mother will be wondering---- MRS. GAYLUSTRE. [To herself.] Drat your moth---- [To MACPHAIL.] Never mind dear Lady Macphail for a moment. Colin, since you have discovered my love for you I will make no further reservation---- MACPHAIL. But mother---- MRS. GAYLUSTRE. [Under her breath.] Drat your---- [To MACPHAIL.] Colin, I will be to you the wife you have described. MACPHAIL. I'm extremely obliged to ye--but---- MRS. GAYLUSTRE. Hush, bold boy! [She gives him a card.] MRS. GAYLUSTRE. You know my cruel brother takes me back to town to-morrow. Here is my address so that you may write to me constantly, devotedly. MACPHAIL. [Reading the card.] "Mauricette & Cie., Court Dressmakers----" MRS. GAYLUSTRE. [Snatching the card from him.] That's a wrong 'un--I mean, that's a mistake. [Giving another.] There. Hide it away, dear one--nearest your heart. [He slips it into his stocking.] MACPHAIL. Oh! MRS. GAYLUSTRE. And now, as I start in the morning at nine-forty-five, sharp, on the tick, we must say farewell. Oh, this parting is too cruel. Colin! [She falls against him.] MACPHAIL. Here's my mother! [He throws her off.] MRS. GAYLUSTRE. [Under her breath.] Drat your mother! [LADY MACPHAIL enters.] LADY MACPHAIL. Madam. [To MACPHAIL.] Why do you leave the ball-room, my lad? MACPHAIL. I've been just watching the moonlight on Loch Auchentoshan. LADY MACPHAIL.