WOOD. I will presently--there's plenty of time! It's quite early yet! (_seeing that he is standing between MRS. WOODCOCK and the clock, moves aside_) I repeat, it's _quite early yet!_ (_pointedly, and looking at clock_) MRS. W. (_seeing clock_) Eh? Can it be possible? Twenty minutes past two? WOOD. Oh! that clock's too fast! Look here! (_taking out his watch_) Holloa! Why it's half-past two! That clock's too slow. MRS. W. How the time slips away! WOOD. Yes! the last hour's gone remarkably fast. _Music--some five or six couples, including MRS. LARKINGS and MRS. CARVER, come in at C., dancing the polka--the last couple consisting of MRS. CARVER and a very YOUNG MAN--polka ceases._ WOOD. (_who has gone to door, L._) Ticket No. 81--two opera cloaks--a hat--a comforter--an Inverness cape! MRS. C. Why! What is Marmy about? (_to MRS. WOODCOCK_) MRS. W. Look at the clock, mamma! MRS. C. Half-past two! _Enter LARKINGS, at C. from L._ LARK. What's that? Half-past two? No such thing, gentlemen--I appeal to you! Out with your watches! (_LARKINGS and GENTLEMEN take out their watches--each presenting his to his LADY_) LARK. } } Half-past one! GENTS. } MRS. W. Another hour! Delightful! MRS. C. Charming! (_polka music resumed_) Mrs. Woodcock, allow me. (_polka--MRS. CARVER seizing her former partner and whirling him out after the others, at C. to L._) WOOD. (_who has been standing looking on with the opera cloaks, &c., &c., in his arms--dashes them down in a lump on the stage_) That's a failure! Then I won't go home at all! I'll sleep here! (_seizing up the cloaks, &c., and dashing them one after the other on the sofa, L. C., and then throwing himself upon them_) There! (_burying his head in the pillow_) This is very comfortable---- _SWANSDOWN hurries in, at L., very pale and excited._ SWANS. (_as he enters_) Woodcock! Woodcock! (_seeing him on sofa_) Ah, there he is! (_shaking him_) Woodcock, get up! WOOD. (_jumping up_) Halloa, Swansdown, come back again! SWANS. (_with a savage grin, R._) Yes! ha, ha, ha! (_with a forced laugh_) WOOD. (_L._) Don't make such dreadful faces! What's the matter? SWANS. Matter? (_furiously and grimacing_) WOOD. Don't grind your teeth in that horrible way. Recollect they're not your own! SWANS. Listen! (_grasping WOODCOCK'S arm_) On my return home, I found Mrs. Swansdown's maid in Mrs. Swansdown's room fast asleep! Something was lying on the dressing table! It was a letter! WOOD. (_aside_) Larkings's billet! SWANS. Yes! A letter for Mrs. Swansdown, from--from--fiends and furies! WOOD. I don't know either of the gentlemen. SWANS. From Larkings! Christopher Larkings! There was no signature; but I knew the handwriting! It was a declaration--a declaration! Don't you hear? (_shouting_) WOOD. Yes--yes! Well! SWANS. I rushed into my library--opened my desk--took out my duelling pistols--put them in my pocket, and--here I am! (_savagely and walking to and fro_)