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?