COMTESSE. My child!

SYBIL [who is a little agitated]. He would have it.

JOHN [perplexed]. What's the matter? I just wanted to know, because
if it's true I must alter it.

COMTESSE. There, Sybil, see how he values your good opinion.

SYBIL [her svelte figure giving like a fishing-rod]. It is very nice
of you to put it in that way, Mr. Shand. Forgive me.

JOHN. But I don't quite understand yet. Of course, it can't matter to
me, Lady Sybil, what you think of me; what I mean is, that I mustn't
be vulgar if it would be injurious to my career.

[The fishing-rod regains its rigidity.]

SYBIL. I see. No, of course, I could not affect your career, Mr
Shand.

JOHN [who quite understands that he is being challenged]. That's so,
Lady Sybil, meaning no offence.

SYBIL [who has a naughty little impediment in her voice when she is
most alluring]. Of course not. And we are friends again?

JOHN. Certainly.