MRS. CULVER. And your dear, indispensable Miss Starkey thinks the same. (_She tries to kiss him_.) CULVER. No, no! (Mrs. Culver _succeeds in kissing him_.) _Enter_ Miss Starkey. (_The other two spring apart. A short pause_.) CULVER. Which is the refusal? MISS STARKEY. This one. CULVER. Put it in the fire. (Miss Starkey _obeys. Both the women show satisfaction in their different ways_.) Give me the acceptance. (_He takes the letter of acceptance and reads it_.) MRS. CULVER (_while he is reading the letter_). Miss Starkey, you look very pale. Have you had any dinner? MISS STARKEY. Not yet, madam. MRS. CULVER. You poor dear! (_She strokes_ Miss Starkey. _They both look at the tyrannical male_.) I'll order something for you at once. MISS STARKEY. I shall have to go to the post first. CULVER (_glancing up_). I'll go to the post myself. I must have air, air! Where's the envelope? (_Exit_ Miss Starkey _quickly, back_.) (Mrs. Culver _gently takes the letter from her husband and reads it_. Culver _drops into a chair_.) MRS. CULVER (_putting down the letter_). Darling! CULVER. I thought I was a brute? MRS. CULVER (_caressing and kissing him_). I do so love my brute, and I am so happy. Darling! But you are a silly old darling, wasting all this time. CULVER. Wasting all what time? MRS. CULVER. Why, the moment I came in again I could see you'd decided to give way. (_With a gesture of delight_.) I must run and tell the children. (_Exit, L_.) _Enter_ Miss Starkey _back_. MISS STARKEY. Here's the envelope. CULVER (_taking it_). Tell them to get me my hat and overcoat. MISS STARKEY. Yes, Sir Arthur. (Culver _starts_.) (_Exit_ Miss Starkey, _back_.) CULVER (_as he puts the letter in the envelope; with an air of discovery_). I suppose I _do_ like being called 'Sir Arthur.' _Enter_ Hildegard _and_ John _both disgusted, back_. JOHN (_to_ Hildegarde, _as they come in_). I told you last night he couldn't control even the mater. However, I'll be even with her yet. CULVER. What do you mean, boy? JOHN. I mean I'll be even with the mater yet. You'll see. HILDEGARDE. Papa, you've behaved basely. Basely! What an example to us! I intend to leave this house and live alone. CULVER. You ought to marry Mr. Sampson Straight. (Hildegarde _starts and is silent_.) JOHN. Fancy me having to go back to school the son of a rotten baronet, and with the frightful doom of being a rotten baronet myself. What price the anti-hereditary-principle candidate! Dad, I hope you won't die just yet--it would ruin my political career. Stay me with flagons! CULVER. Me too! CURTAIN. ACT III ACT III _The next day, before lunch_. Hildegarde _and_ John _are together_. JOHN (_nervously impatient_). I wish she'd come. HILDEGARDE. She'll be here in a moment. She's fussing round dad. JOHN. Is he really ill? HILDEGARDE. Well of course. It came on in the night, after he'd had time to think things over. Why?