MRS. KNOWLE. Mother.
BOBBY. Oh, but I say—
MRS. KNOWLE (giving him her hand). And now come and sit on the sofa with me, and tell me all about it.
(They go to the sofa together.)
BOBBY. But I say, Mrs. Knowle—
MRS. KNOWLE (shaking a finger playfully at him). Not Mrs. Knowle, Bobby.
BOBBY. But I say, you mustn't think—I mean Sandy and I—we aren't—
MRS. KNOWLE. You don't mean to tell me, Mr. Coote, that she has refused you again.
BOBBY. Yes. I say, I'd much rather not talk about it.
MRS. KNOWLE. Well, it just shows you that what I said the other day was true. Girls don't know their own minds.