Virginia:  Maiden widow, I think.

Dame Dresden:  We decide for ‘dedicated.’

Winifred:  Spiral paid his most happy tribute to the memory of her late husband, the renowned Professor Towers.

Virginia:  But his look was at dear Astraea.

Arden:  At Astraea?  Why?

Virginia:  For her sanction doubtless.

Arden:  Ha!

Winifred:  He said his pride would ever be in his being received as the successor of Professor Towers.

Arden:  Successor!

Swithin:  Guardian was it not?

Osier:  Tutor.  I think he said.

     (The three gentlemen consult Osier’s notes uneasily.)

Dame Dresden:  Our professor must by this time have received in full Astraea’s congratulations, and Lyra is hearing from her what it is to be too late.  You will join us at the luncheon table, if you do not feel yourself a discordant instrument there, Mr. Arden?

Arden (going to her):  The allusion to knife and fork tunes my strings instantly, Dame.

Dame Dresden:  You must help me to-day, for the professor will be tired, though we dare not hint at it in his presence.  No reference, ladies, to the great speech we have been privileged to hear; we have expressed our appreciation and he could hardly bear it.

Arden:  Nothing is more distasteful to the orator!

Virginia:  As with every true genius, he is driven to feel humbly human by the exultation of him.

Swithin:  He breathes in a rarified air.

Osier:  I was thrilled, I caught at passing beauties.  I see that here and there I have jotted down incoherencies, lines have seduced me, so that I missed the sequence—­the precious part.  Ladies, permit me to rank him with Plato as to the equality of women and men.

Winifred:  It is nobly said.

Osier:  And with the Stoics, in regard to celibacy.

     (By this time all the ladies have gone into the house.)

Arden:  Successor!  Was the word successor?

(Arden, Swithin, and Osier are excitedly searching the notes when spiral passes and strolls into the house.  His air of self- satisfaction increases their uneasiness they follow him.  Astraea and Lyra come down the path.)

SceneV

Astraea, Lyra

Lyra:  Oh!  Pluriel, ask me of him!  I wish I were less sure he would not be at the next corner I turn.

Astraea:  You speak of your husband strangely, Lyra.