Mr. Marrapit sniffed: “My nose corroborates.”
“Ponsger!” the prone figure wailed.
Mr. Marrapit started: “Mrs. Major!”
She opened her eyes: “Call me Lucy. Darling-um!” She began to snore.
“Abhorrent!” Mr. Marrapit pronounced.
Whisperings without made him step to the door. White figures were upon the stairs. “To your beds!” he cried.
“Oh, whatever is it, sir?” Mrs. Armitage panted.
“Away! You outrage decency.” Mr. Marrapit set a foot upon the stairs. The affrighted figures fled before him.
George, when his uncle returned, was peering through the blind. “Who the devil loosed off that gun? It is immaterial. All events are buried beneath this abhorrent incident. The roof of my peace has crashed about me.” Mr. Marrapit regarded the prone figure. “Her inspirations grate upon me; her exhalations poison the air. Rouse her. Thrust her to her room.”
“You'll never wake her now till she's slept it off.”