It's admitted by the best people;and not to know it argues yourself unknown.Three of our first actor-managers have offered her a hundred a week if she'd go on the stage when they start a repertory theatre;and I think they know what they're about as well as you.The only member of the present Cabinet that you might call a handsome man has neglected the business of the country to dance with her,though he don't belong to our set as a regular thing.One of the first professional poets in Bedford Park wrote a sonnet to her,worth all your amateur trash.At Ascot last season the eldest son of a duke excused himself from calling on me on the ground that his feelings for Mrs Bompas were not consistent with his duty to me as host;and it did him honor and me too.But [with gathering fury]she isn't good enough for you,it seems.You regard her with coldness,with indifference;and you have the cool cheek to tell me so to my face.For two pins I'd flatten your nose in to teach you manners.Introducing a fine woman to you is casting pearls before swine [yelling at him] before SWINE!d'ye hear?
HE [with a deplorable lack of polish]You call me a swine again and I'll land you one on the chin that'll make your head sing for a week.
HER HUSBAND [exploding]What--!
He charges at Henry with bull-like fury.Henry places himself on guard in the manner of a well taught boxer,and gets away smartly,but unfortunately forgets the stool which is just behind him.He falls backwards over it,unintentionally pushing it against the shins of Bompas,who falls forward over it.Mrs Bompas,with a scream,rushes into the room between the sprawling champions,and sits down on the floor in order to get her right arm round her husband's neck.
SHE.You shan't,Teddy:you shan't.You will be killed:he is a prizefighter.
HER HUSBAND [vengefully]I'll prizefight him.[He struggles vainly to free himself from her embrace].
SHE.Henry:don't let him fight you.Promise me that you won't.