DRUMMLE.

Aub----! [_Looking towards_ MISQUITH.] Is it a joke?

MISQUITH.

No.

DRUMMLE.

[_Looking from_ MISQUITH _to_ JAYNE.] To whom?

MISQUITH.

He doesn't tell us.

JAYNE.

We three were asked here to-night to receive the announcement.

Aubrey has some theory that marriage is likely to alienate a man from his friends, and it seems to me he has taken the precaution to wish us good-bye.

MISQUITH.

No, no.

JAYNE.

Practically, surely.

DRUMMLE.

[_Thoughtfully._] Marriage in general, does he mean, or this marriage?

JAYNE.

That's the point. Frank says----

MISQUITH.

No, no, no; I feared it suggested----

JAYNE.

Well, well. [_To_ DRUMMLE.] What do you think Of it?

DRUMMLE.

[_After a slight pause._] Is there a light there? [_Lighting his cigar._] He--wraps the lady--in mystery--you say?

MISQUITH.

Most modestly.

DRUMMLE.

Aubrey's--not--a very--young man.

JAYNE.

Forty-three.

DRUMMLE.

Ah! _L'age critique!_

MISQUITH.

A dangerous age--yes, yes.

DRUMMLE.

When you two fellows go home, do you mind leaving me behind here?

MISQUITH.

Not at all.

JAYNE.

By all means.

DRUMMLE.

All right. [_Anxiously._] Deuce take it, the man's second marriage mustn't be another mistake!

[_With his head bent he walks up to the fireplace._

JAYNE.

You knew him in his short married life, Cayley. Terribly unsatisfactory, wasn't it?

DRUMMLE.

Well---- [_Looking at the door._] I quite closed that door?

MISQUITH.

Yes.

[_Settles himself on the sofa_; JAYNE _is seated in an armchair._