Surp----! I haven"t been surprised for twenty years.
AUBREY.
And you"re not angry with me?
DRUMMLE.
Angry! [_Rising._] Because you considerately withhold the name of a lady with whom it is now the object of my life to become acquainted?
My dear fellow, you pique my curiosity, you give zest to my existence! And as for a wedding, who on earth wants to attend that familiar and probably draughty function? Ugh! My cigar"s out.
AUBREY.
Let"s talk about something else.
MISQUITH.
[_Looking at his watch._] Not to-night, Aubrey.
AUBREY.
My dear Frank!
MISQUITH.
I go up to Scotland to-morrow, and there are some little matters----
JAYNE.
I am off too.
AUBREY.
No, no.
JAYNE.
I must: I have to give a look to a case in Clifford Street on my way home.
AUBREY.
[_Going to the door._] Well! [MISQUITH _and_ JAYNE _exchange looks with_ DRUMMLE. _Opening the door and calling._] Morse, hats and coats! I shall write to you all next week from Genoa or Florence.
Now, doctor, Frank, remember, my love to Mrs. Misquith and to Mrs.
Jayne!
MORSE _enters with hats and coats._
MISQUITH _and_ JAYNE.
Yes, yes--yes, yes.
AUBREY.
And your young people!
[_As_ MISQUITH _and_ JAYNE _put on their coats there is the clatter of careless talk._
JAYNE.
Cayley, I meet you at dinner on Sunday.
DRUMMLE.
At the Stratfields". That"s very pleasant.
MISQUITH.
[_Putting on his coat with_ AUBREY"s _aid._] Ah-h!
AUBREY.
What"s wrong?
MISQUITH.
A twinge. Why didn"t I go to Aix in August?
JAYNE.
[_Shaking hands with_ DRUMMLE.] Good-night, Cayley.
DRUMMLE.
Good-night, my dear doctor!
MISQUITH.
[_Shaking hands with_ DRUMMLE.] Cayley, are you in town for long?
DRUMMLE.
Dear friend, I"m nowhere for long. Good-night.
MISQUITH.
Good-night.
[AUBREY, JAYNE, _and_ MISQUITH _go out, followed by_ MORSE; _the hum of talk is continued outside._
AUBREY.