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CHARVILLE.

I am not impatient: let him stay till doomsday, if he will; but I hate people who are always going and going, and never go. (Stepping on to them hastily.) It will rain presently: it rains now; would you stay here to be wet?

MRS. CHARVILLE.

Rain!

CHARVILLE.

I felt a drop on my hand this moment: look there.

MRS. CHARVILLE.

It fell not from the clouds then; but verily, I think, from your own forehead. How warm you are! (Turning to Freemantle.) Good day, then, I will not detain you. [Exit Freemantle. (To Charville.) Well, dear Charles, since you are so afraid of the clouds, let us go into the house. But I must visit my bower first.
[Exit swiftly among the trees.

CHARVILLE (after stalking slowly away in another direction, stops short, and returns to Mary, who stands on the front, looking after Freemantle).

MARY.

Well, brother!

CHARVILLE.

My dear Mary!