(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?
Mas. 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?
Mas. 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. G. It comes to the same thing. You took it yourself.
MRS. G. Yes, but if I hadn't taken it, you wouldn't have said a
word. I think this Harriet Herriott-it's like a name in a book-is an
interfering old Thing.
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