Mrs. G. This Journal of Veterinary Science says they are of "absorbing
interest." Tell me.
Capt. G. (Aside.) It may turn her attention.
Gives a long and designedly loathsome account of glanders and farcy.
Mrs. G. Oh, that's enough. Don't go on!
Capt. G. But you wanted to know--Then these things suppurate and matterate and
spread--
Mrs. G. Pin, you're making me sick! You're a horrid, disgusting schoolboy.
Capt. G. (On his knees among the bridles.) You asked to be told. It's not my
fault if you worry me into talking about horrors.
Mrs. G. Why didn't you say No?
Capt. G. Good Heavens, child! Have you come in here simply to bully me?
Mrs. G. I bully you? How could I! You're so strong. (Hysterically.) Strong
enough to pick me up and put me outside the door and leave me there to cry.
Aren't you?
Capt. G. It seems to me that you're an irrational little baby. Are you quite
well?
Mrs. G. Do I look ill? (Returning to table). Who is your lady friend with the
big grey envelope and the fat monogram outside?
Capt. G. (Aside.) Then it wasn't locked up, confound it. (Aloud.) "God made
her, therefore let her pass for a woman." You remember what farcybuds are like?
Mrs. G. (Showing envelope.) This has nothing to do with them.
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