[SIR RANDLE _returns, with a solemn countenance. He closes the door and comes forward._

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON.] A melancholy morning, Winnie.

LADY FILSON.

[_Sighing._] Ahhh!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Producing a black-edged pocket-handkerchief and unfolding it._] Poor Macfarlane--and then _this_! [_Blowing his nose._] Upsetting!

Upsetting! [_Glancing at_ BERTRAM.] Does Bertram----?

LADY FILSON.

I've told him.

BERTRAM.

My dear father, I cannot--I cannot profess to regret my sister's decision. I mean to _say_----!

SIR RANDLE.

[_Suddenly._] Nor I. [_In an outburst, pacing the room._] Nor I. I _must_ be candid. It's my nature to be candid. A d.a.m.ned tradesman!

BERTRAM.

Exactly. It shows my sister's delicacy and refinement, I mean t'say.

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ LADY FILSON, _halting._] Who, in your opinion, Winnie----?

LADY FILSON.

_I'm_ inclined to think it's Mr. Delacour.

SIR RANDLE.

[_Resuming his walk._] So be it. [_Raising his arms._] If I am to lose my child a second time--so be it.

BERTRAM.

_I_ venture to suggest it may be Edward Trefusis.

SIR RANDLE.

[_To_ BERTRAM, _halting again._] My dear boy, in a matter of this kind, I fancy we can rely on your mother's wonderful powers of penetration.

BERTRAM.

[_Bowing._] Pardon, father.

LADY FILSON.

[_Closing her eyes._] "Mrs. George Delacour."

SIR RANDLE.

[_Partly closing his eyes and again resuming his walk._] "A marriage is arranged and will shortly take place between George Holmby Delacour, of--of--of----"

BERTRAM.

[_Closing his eyes._] "90, St. James's Street----"

SIR RANDLE.

[_Halting and opening his eyes._] One thing I heartily deplore, Winifred----

LADY FILSON.

[_Opening her eyes._] What is that, Randle?

SIR RANDLE.

Ottoline being a widow, there can be no bridesmaids; which deprives us of the happiness of paying a pretty compliment to the daughters of several families of distinction whom we have the privilege of numbering among our acquaintances.

LADY FILSON.

There can be no bridesmaids, strictly speaking; but a widow may be accompanied to the altar by a bevy of Maids of Honour.

SIR RANDLE.

Ah, yes! An equally good opportunity for an imposing--[_closing his eyes_] and reverential display! [_To_ LADY FILSON.] Lady Maundrell's girl Sybil, eh, Winnie?

LADY FILSON.

Decidedly. And Lady Eva Sherringham.

BERTRAM.

Lady Lilian and Lady Constance Foxe----

SIR RANDLE.

Lady Irene Pallant----