ALMA. And when do you propose to acknowledge your wife?

NED. I don't know yet, (_crosses, L._) but when the right time comes.

ALMA. The right time was the day you married her.

NED. Ah, it's all very well to talk, but you have no idea how much it would hurt the governor. (_crosses to ALMA_) It would have cut him to the heart.

ALMA. A very good reason for not marrying, but a very bad reason for concealing your marriage.

NED. It was to spare his feelings.

ALMA. Don't flatter yourself. It was to spare your own.

NED. Well, it's done now, and I can't help it.

ALMA. But you can. You can tell him to-day.

NED. (_sits R. of table_) That would be worse than telling him earlier.

ALMA. (_crosses to NED_) And better than telling him later. You've done wrong, and you're doing wrong now. The only point in your favour is that you're thoroughly ashamed of yourself. (_crosses to R.C._)

NED. Ashamed! nay----

ALMA. I can see it in your face. No h.o.a.rding like a human countenance, and no bill-sticker like a guilty conscience.

NED. Alma, I _am_ ashamed.

ALMA. (_crosses to NED_) Be as much ashamed of yourself as you like, but don't be ashamed of your wife.

NED. I'll tell Sir Humphrey--to-morrow.

ALMA. To-day. (_holding her hands out_)

NED. If I can screw my courage up.

BOTH. (_shaking hands_) To-day.

ALMA. I'll screw it up for you. You won't want much. Fathers are not such dreadful animals after all. There was a time when children were afraid of their parents, but now-a-days they're lucky parents who're not afraid of their children. (_Re-enter DR. DOZEY, C., and down, R.C._) Aren't they, doctor?

DR. I crave forgiveness. Your observation escaped me.

ALMA. Ah, you were lost in thought.

DR. I was meditating, it is true.

ALMA. Lost in meditation. Thank you, for the correction.

_NED rises; goes aside thoughtfully._

DR. Lost in amazement.

ALMA. Amazement. Beg your pardon. Got it at last.

DR. That our paths, which are so diverse, should have crossed.

ALMA. It's a queer meeting, certainly, but, you know, accidents will happen.

DR. (_raising his hand_) Pardon me, there is no such thing as accident. It is true that fortune, like misfortune, makes us acquainted with strange----

ALMA. Hem!

DR. I will amend my ill.u.s.tration.

ALMA. Thank you.

DR. Rough-hew them how we may, our ends are shaped for us. Doubtless we have been brought together for some wise purpose. I propose, therefore, to improve your acquaintance.

ALMA. Hadn't you better improve _me?_ Never mind my acquaintance.

DR. That is the object which I have in view. Even the rose needs careful nurturing, ere it will bloom like--like--what shall I say?

ALMA. Say what you like. I won't be offended.

DR. Like those I see before me.

ALMA. These? (_taking one from her dress_) Would you like one?

DR. I am unused to meretricious ornament.

ALMA. Doctor! Don't call my poor rose such hard names. Stand still.

I'll put it in your b.u.t.tonhole.

DR. (_whilst she arranges it_) There can be no objection to a simple flower. (_crosses to table_)

ALMA. There! You look quite a masher!

DR. Eh! (_turning_)

ALMA. Picture, I meant! Picture, picture.

DR. Do I, indeed? (_goes to mirror, turns, and smiles_) A flower _is_ an adornment. (_stands admiring himself; ALMA goes up to NED, and taps him on the shoulder, points to DR. DOZEY, and can scarcely restrain her laughter; DR. DOZEY comes down, L., soliloquising_) A comely woman. Not unprepossessing. Whatever the contents may be, the exterior of the platter is attractive. (_the book drops from MRS. DOZEY'S lap; turns_) What was that?

NED. (_at easel_) It's only Mrs. Dozey. (_crosses with ALMA to R.C._)

DR. My wife there! (_crosses to MRS. DOZEY, R._)

ALMA. You needn't be alarmed. She's fast asleep.