SCENE. – PENNYFATHER’S Drawing-room. French windows at back, opening on suburban garden. Table, R.C. Arm-chair, C. Another arm-chair, R. of table. Small table, L. Sideboard with clock, L.C. Door, L.
As the curtain rises SELWORTHY enters L., followed by MARIA.
MARIA. What name shall I say, sir?
SELWORTHY. Oh, never mind the name; say “a gentleman from Mexico.”
MARIA. Very well, sir. (Exit MARIA, L.)
SEL. (seating himself, C.) Well, this is better than a hut in the Terra Caliente, or the saloon of a Cunard boat in a gale. Here I23 October, 2007 me? I wonder if he’s much altered? At all events, I’ll be bound he’s the same dear, good fellow as ever, and the very man to assist me in my search for my Perdita – the dear girl whose image I have borne in my heart, and whose portrait I have carried in my breast-pocket through ten weary years of wandering and adventure. (Takes out miniature.) Here it is! (Kisses it.) And this flower – and this lock of hair that she gave me when we parted (taking out paper parcel and kissing it). (Overcome by his emotions). Oh, Perdita, my darling Perdita! I must clasp you in my arms, once again, and for ever!
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