MARIONETTA
I see, Mr Flosky, you think my intrusion unseasonable, and are inclined to punish it, by talking nonsense to me. (Mr Flosky gave a start at the word nonsense, which almost overturned the table.) I assure you, I would not have intruded if I had not been very much interested in the question I wish to ask you.—(Mr Flosky listened in sullen dignity.)—My cousin Scythrop seems to have some secret preying on his mind.—(Mr Flosky was silent.)—He seems very unhappy—Mr Flosky.—Perhaps you are acquainted with the cause.—(Mr Flosky was still silent.)—I only wish to know—Mr Flosky—if it is any thing—that could be remedied by any thing—that any one—of whom I know any thing—could do.
MR FLOSKY (after a pause)
There are various ways of getting at secrets. The most approved methods, as recommended both theoretically and practically in philosophical novels, are eavesdropping at key-holes, picking the locks of chests and desks, peeping into letters, steaming wafers, and insinuating hot wire under sealing wax; none of which methods I hold it lawful to practise.