Really, Dora, I don’t think it would be absolutely fair——
Dowager.
Fair! People’s actions are like their heads of hair—they can be dyed flaxen. [To Brooke.] Boy, why do you let the grass grow under your pumps in this way?
Brooke Twombley.
I haven’t let the grass grow, Aunt Dora. I—ah—I have the happiness to be engaged—what!
Lady Twombley.
Engaged!
Sir Julian Twombley.
Bless my soul!
Dowager.