LADY BRITOMART. }{ Adolphus!
SARAH. }{ Dolly!
BARBARA. }{ Dolly!
LOMAX. }{ Oh I say!
LADY BRITOMART. What were you drinking, may I ask?
CUSINS. A most devilish kind of Spanish burgundy, warranted free from added alcohol: a Temperance burgundy in fact. Its richness in natural alcohol made any addition superfluous.
BARBARA. Are you joking, Dolly?
CUSINS [patiently] No. I have been making a night of it with the nominal head of this household: that is all.
LADY BRITOMART. Andrew made you drunk!
CUSINS. No: he only provided the wine. I think it was Dionysos who made me drunk. [To Barbara] I told you I was possessed.
LADY BRITOMART. You're not sober yet. Go home to bed at once.
CUSINS. I have never before ventured to reproach you, Lady Brit; but how could you marry the Prince of Darkness?
LADY BRITOMART. It was much more excusable to marry him than to get drunk with him. That is a new accomplishment of Andrew's, by the way. He usen't to drink.