[To himself.] Chatty, hey? Chatty? [He comes face to face with the Dowager, who glares at him.] Hah! H’m! [Offering her the flowers.] I—ah—had these picked for you, by Jove, I did. A present from Joseph.
Dowager.
What, sir!
Mr. Joseph Lebanon.
[Replacing the flowers in his coat.] Excuse my humour. [Wiping his brow again.] Chatty! I do wish Fan would cut in and help me. [Slaps Sir Julian on the shoulder.] Twombley, old fellow.
Sir Julian Twombley.
Sir!
Mr. Joseph Lebanon.
Not comin’ out with us to-day, hey?
Sir Julian Twombley.