Olive.
And your wife?
Quaife.
Exceedingly healthy, ma’am, for a stout person.
Olive.
I hope you look after Mr. Allingham thoroughly, all of you.
Quaife.
[Dropping his voice, impressively.] We regard him as a trust, ma’am, if I may make use of the expression.
Olive.
[Sharply.] A what?