(Aloud.) I told you
that there was nothing to be gained from rearranging my table.
Mrs. G. (Absently.) What does the woman mean? She goes on talking about
Consequences--" "almost inevitable Consequences" with a capital C--for half a
page. (Flushing scarlet.) Oh, good gracious! How abominable!
Capt. G. (Promptly.) Do you think so? Doesn't it show a sort of motherly
interest in us? (Aside.) Thank Heaven. Harry always wrapped her meaning up
safely! (Aloud.) Is it absolutely necessary to go on with the letter, darling?
Mrs. G. It's impertinent--it's simply horrid. What right has this woman to
write in this way to you? She oughtn't to.
Capt. G. When you write to the Deercourt girl, I notice that you generally fill
three or four sheets. Can't you let an old woman babble on paper once in a way?
She means well.
Mrs. G. I don't care. She shouldn't write, and if she did, you ought to have
shown me her letter.
Capt. G. Can't you understand why I kept it to myself, or must I explain at
length--as I explained the farcybuds?
Mrs. G. (Furiously.) Pip I hate you! This is as bad as those idiotic saddle-
bags on the floor. Never mind whether it would please me or not, you ought to
have given it to me to read.
Capt.
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