A cigar, Frank?
MISQUITH.
No, thank you.
AUBREY.
Going to walk, doctor?
JAYNE.
If Frank will.
MISQUITH.
By all means.
AUBREY.
It"s a cold night.
[_The door is closed._ DRUMMLE _remains standing with his coat on his arm and his hat in his hand._
DRUMMLE.
[_To himself, thoughtfully._] Now then! What the devil----!
[AUBREY _returns._
AUBREY.
[_Eyeing_ DRUMMLE _a little awkwardly._] Well, Cayley?
DRUMMLE.
Well, Aubrey?
[AUBREY _walks up to the fire and stands looking into it._
AUBREY.
You"re not going, old chap?
DRUMMLE.
[_Sitting._] No.
AUBREY.
[_After a slight pause, with a forced laugh._] Hah! Cayley, I never thought I should feel--shy--with you.
DRUMMLE.
Why do you?
AUBREY.
Never mind.
DRUMMLE.
Now, I can quite understand a man wishing to be married in the dark, as it were.
AUBREY.
You can?
DRUMMLE.
In your place I should very likely adopt the same course.
AUBREY.
You think so?
DRUMMLE.
And if I intended marrying a lady not prominently in Society, as I presume you do--as I presume you do----
AUBREY.
Well?
DRUMMLE.
As I presume you do, I"m not sure that _I_ should tender her for preliminary dissection at afternoon tea-tables.
AUBREY.
No?
DRUMMLE.
In fact, there is probably only one person--were I in your position to-night--with whom I should care to chat the matter over.
AUBREY.
Who"s that?