ERMYNTRUDE. Well, elegance if you like. Luxury, if you insist.
Call it what you please. A house that costs less than a hundred
thousand dollars a year to run is intolerable to me.

THE ARCHDEACON. Then, my dear, you had better become lady's maid
to a princess until you can find another millionaire to marry
you.

ERMYNTRUDE. That's an idea. I will. [She vanishes through the
curtains.]

THE ARCHDEACON. What! Come back. Come back this instant. [The
lights are lowered.] Oh, very well: I have nothing more to say.
[He descends the steps into the auditorium and makes for the
door, grumbling all the time.] Insane, senseless extravagance!
[Barking.] Worthlessness!! [Muttering.] I will not bear it any
longer. Dresses, hats, furs, gloves, motor rides: one bill after
another: money going like water. No restraint, no self-control,
no decency. [Shrieking.] I say, no decency! [Muttering again.]
Nice state of things we are coming to! A pretty world! But I
simply will not bear it. She can do as she likes. I wash my hands
of her: I am not going to die in the workhouse for any
good-for-nothing, undutiful, spendthrift daughter; and the sooner
that is understood by everybody the better for all par-- [He is
by this time out of hearing in the corridor.]



THE PLAY