Horatia. By-the-by, Mr. Dapple, may I ask your opinion on a much disputed point, where I venture to differ even from my Uncle? What do you think of the Aerolites?
Charles. [Turning to Sophia.] A sweet little dog, indeed: what fine eyes!
Horatia. Do you think them....
Charles. The little pink ribbon round its neck is so becoming.
Horatia. [Raising her voice.] Mr. Dapple, Mr. Dapple, do you think the Aerolites....
Charles. [Aside.] Help me, my mother-wits!
Horatia. Do you agree in the generally received opinion....
Charles. [Aside.] Some political party perhaps!
Horatia. Or do you think them....