MABEL.
I didn't really want him, you know.
BASIL.
[_Pointing with his head to_ BRACKLEY.] I say, who is that?
MABEL.
Robert Brackley. Don't you know him?
BASIL.
The poet?
MABEL.
Of course. They say he'd have been given the Laureateship if it hadn't been abolished at Tennyson's death.
BASIL.
[_Tightening his lips._] He's rather a low blackguard, isn't he?
MABEL.
Heavens, what's the matter with him, poor man? He's Hilda's latest celebrity. He pretends to adore her.
BASIL.
Don't you remember the Grange case that he was mixed up in?
MABEL.
[_In tones of surprise._] But, my dear Mr. Kent, that was two years ago.
HILDA.
Mr. Kent, I want to introduce you to Mr. Brackley.
BASIL.
[_Going up._] How d'you do.
[JOHN _comes down to his wife_.
MABEL.
Wretched creature!
JOHN.
I say, Mabel, is Basil often here?
MABEL.
I don't know. I met him here last week.
JOHN.
Why the Dickens does he come? He's got no business to.
MABEL.
You brought him yourself to-day.
JOHN.
I didn't. He insisted on coming--when I said I had to fetch you.
MABEL.
Perhaps he came to see me.
JOHN.
Fiddledidee! I think you ought to speak to Hilda about it.
MABEL.
My dear John, are you mad? She'd jump down my throat.
JOHN.
Why does she let him hang about her? She must know she's turning his silly head.
MABEL.
I daresay she wants to prove to him that he showed very bad taste a year ago. It is rather annoying when you're attached to a young man that he should go and marry somebody else.
JOHN.
Well, I don't think she's playing the game, and I shall tell her so.
MABEL.
She'll snub you awfully.
JOHN.