Part 12 (2/2)

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Horrible! Julian giving up public life and settling down in some dismal swamp as a country gentleman. He has threatened it.

DOWAGER.

Very well then; you must a.s.sure your children's future before the blow falls. What could you do for Imogen in the country?

LADY TWOMBLEY.

A vicar or a small squire.

DOWAGER.

More likely a curate or a farmer. Will you resign yourself to that?

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Never, Dora! I never will! I've had to swallow the husks of London and my chicks shall have the barley. Julian _shall_ hold on till they have made brilliant marriages!

DOWAGER.

Ah!

LADY TWOMBLEY.

He shall! Afterwards I'll go back to darning stockings with a light heart.

DOWAGER.

Well spoken, Kate Twombley!

[PROBYN appears at the entrance.]

PROBYN.

Sir Colin and Lady Macphail.

DOWAGER.

[To LADY TWOMBLEY.] You see my motive?

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Yes, Dora.

[LADY MACPHAIL and SIR COLIN enter--she a simple little old woman in Court dress, ecstatically sentimental; he a formidable-looking bearded man about six feet high, in full Highland costume, bashful and awkward in manner, and keeping close to his mother.]

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