[Sitting again.] Why, we’ve all known Jack Allingham for years——
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
[Sitting.] A good fellow—little dull, perhaps—little prosy——
Mrs. Emptage.
[Glancing at Justina.] At one time we thought he was rather inclined to pay ’Tina——
Justina.
What rot, mother!
Mrs. Cloys.
Oh!
Mrs. Emptage.