Mrs. Denham.

Just move out this sofa. (_They move sofa to_ C.) Who are
coming?

Denham.

Oh, Fitzgerald, of course, and possibly Cyril Vane.

Mrs. Denham. That little creature? You know I detest him.

Denham.

Why _little_? Do you estimate men of genius by the pound?

Mrs. Denham.

Men of genius, indeed? The man has a second-hand intellect.

Denham.

Really, you sometimes say a good thing--that is, an ill-natured one.
How you hate culture! (_Enter Jane, showing in Fitzgerald._)

Jane.

Mr. Fitzgerald! (_Exit Jane._)

(_Fitzgerald saunters up to Mrs. Denham, stops suddenly, straddling