WOOD. (_very quietly, C._) That's quite right! I'm a left-handed Woodcock. MRS. L. (_L._) It's very shocking! but there's something worse behind. WOOD. (_looking behind him_) Where? MRS. L. I mean that Mrs. Colonel Carver knows everything. She'll return immediately; when she's done screaming, your only hope is to plead guilty at once and sue for pardon for Caroline's sake--you know that's her tender point! WOOD. I will! I'll throw myself at once upon her tender point. MRS. C. (_without_) Don't tell me! I can't--I won't believe it! _Enter MRS. CARVER, hurriedly, R., and sees WOODCOCK with his arm in the sling._ MRS. C. (_assuming a very pathetic attitude_) Ah! it's true! (_screams and falls into chair, MRS. LARKINGS runs to her--WOODCOCK and LARKINGS exchange winks and laugh_) MRS. L. (_to MRS. C._) Hush! the arm is only slightly, very slightly wounded. MRS. C. I know better! they'll have to amputate it! I shall have a one-armed son-in-law--a wretched, helpless cripple! (_suddenly to MRS. LARKINGS_) My dear friend, go to poor dear Caroline--don't leave her till I've had time to do all my screaming! I know I screamed in the cab, but not half enough! Go, go! _Exit MRS. LARKINGS, C., followed by LARKINGS, who again exchanges winks, &c., with WOODCOCK._ MRS. C. (_watching them out and then turning to WOODCOCK, who looks at her and then turns his head away as if ashamed of himself_) Am I awake? or is it a dream--a nightmare? No! there he stands--at least, all that is left of him. Oh, Marmy! (_sobbing loudly and burying her face in her handkerchief_) WOOD. (_R._) Oh, Carver! (_imitating MRS. CARVER_) MRS. C. (_indignantly_) So, sir! Scarce ten days married to the sweetest, the gentlest of her sex, you actually have the audacity to indite a declaration of love to another woman--a married woman too! (_suddenly bursting again into sobbing_) Oh, Marmy! WOOD. Oh, Carver! (_same play_) MRS. C. (_L._) I couldn't have believed it! (_ditto_) WOOD. No, more could I! (_ditto_) You've done it, Carver! You _would_ bring me to London, and what's the result?--that I'm a lost Woodcock. (_in a tone of pretended anguish_) MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (_sobbing very loud_) WOOD. Oh, Carver! (_ditto_) MRS. C. But no! you can't be utterly depraved in so short a time! WOOD. Yes, I am! I feel I'm rapidly settling down into an atrocious profligate, and I can't help it! That's the melancholy part of it, I can't help it! You've done it, Carver, you _would_ bring me to London! MRS. C. Oh, Marmy! (_a fresh burst of sobbing_) WOOD. Oh, Carver! (_ditto_) MRS. C. (_suddenly_) There's only one thing to be done! go back at once to Stow-on-the-Wold, (_WOODCOCK winks, aside_) and there, with your dear Caroline----