SYBIL [deserted by the impediment, which is probably playing with
rough boys in the Lovers' Lane]. Auntie, do leave us, won't you?

COMTESSE. Not I. It is becoming far too interesting.

MAGGIE. I suppose there's no reason the Comtesse shouldn't be told,
as she will know so soon at any rate?

JOHN. That's so. [SYBIL sees with discomfort that he is to be
practical also.]

MAGGIE. It's so simple. You see, Comtesse, John and Lady Sybil have
fallen in love with one another, and they are to go off as soon as
the meeting at Leeds has taken place.

[The COMTESSE's breast is too suddenly introduced to Caledonia and
its varied charms.]

COMTESSE. Mon Dieu!

MAGGIE. I think that's putting it correctly, John.

JOHN. In a sense. But I'm not to attend the meeting at Leeds. My
speech doesn't find favour. [With a strange humility] There's
something wrong with it.

COMTESSE. I never expected to hear you say that, Mr. Shand.

JOHN [wondering also]. I never expected it myself. I meant to make it
the speech of my career. But somehow my hand seems to have lost its