'
Scythrop had dined, and was sipping his Madeira alone, immersed in
melancholy musing, when Mr Glowry entered, followed by Raven, who,
having placed an additional glass and set a chair for Mr Glowry,
withdrew. Mr Glowry sat down opposite Scythrop. After a pause, during
which each filled and drank in silence, Mr Glowry said, 'So, sir,
you have played your cards well. I proposed Miss Toobad to you: you
refused her. Mr Toobad proposed you to her: she refused you. You fell
in love with Marionetta, and were going to poison yourself, because,
from pure fatherly regard to your temporal interests, I withheld my
consent. When, at length, I offered you my consent, you told me I was
too precipitate. And, after all, I find you and Miss Toobad living
together in the same tower, and behaving in every respect like two
plighted lovers. Now, sir, if there be any rational solution of all
this absurdity, I shall be very much obliged to you for a small
glimmering of information.'
'The solution, sir, is of little moment; but I will leave it in
writing for your satisfaction. The crisis of my fate is come: the
world is a stage, and my direction is _exit._'
'Do not talk so, sir;--do not talk so, Scythrop. What would you have?'
'I would have my love.
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