Don't do that. You did your duty. Nothing more.
That won the Newdigate. I sent you a copy--to Rome.
Ah, I remember; I received the document. Tell me, were there many competitors?
Is it possible that Oxford can produce eleven worse poems than yours?
[_COLONEL turns aside, chuckling, and finds himself face to face with MARGERY, laughing; both become suddenly serious._
It is a work of genius--none but a true poet----
LADY WARGRAVE [_half rising. MARGERY steps forward to help her_].
I ask your pardon. Gerald, you haven't introduced me!
Forgive me, Mrs. Sylvester--forgive me, aunt, but in the excitement of seeing you----
Wife of Jack Sylvester! I am pleased to meet you. I have known your husband almost from a boy. But I don't see him.
[_LADY WARGRAVE looks from one to another. Slight pause._
Oh! Captain Sylvester's wife is collaborating with _you?_
Viewed from the standpoint of the higher morality.
Ah! [_Drops back into her seat, helped by MARGERY._] That will be a very interesting work.[_MARGERY retires up._] Did you do very much down at Mapledurham?
A friend? Margery, you didn't tell me that.
MARGERY [_advancing, and with a slight curtsey_].
Perhaps the old friend was Margery herself?
MRS. SYLVESTER [_perplexed and curious_].
Her father lives there. Theodore, don't you think Margery looks all the better for her holiday?
Theodore! [_Aside to him, stopping his mouth with her fan._]
Well, up the river everybody does. It was hot weather, too.
It must have been. You should have seen her hands. They were all over blisters.
Margery! [_MARGERY casts down her eyes._] You were rowing?
[_LADY WARGRAVE, watching MRS. SYLVESTER, motions to MARGERY, who retires up._
Caroline, you took the water very neatly.
MRS. SYLVESTER [_gathers up MS. into her portfolio_]_._
I will not trespass any longer, Mr. Cazenove. No doubt, your aunt has much to say to you.
Good day to you, Lady Wargrave. [_LADY WARGRAVE is about to rise._] Pray don't rise. [_Bows to the COLONEL and goes to door in flat where GERALD is waiting for her._] Don't trouble; I know my way.
Poor Sylvester! He was such a nice boy! [_GERALD comes down._] Gerald, can Margery wait in the next room?
And how have you been, aunt? You never mentioned your health in your letters. Are you better?