Brooke Twombley.
Awfully satisfactory—what?
Sir Julian Twombley.
I remember Lady Liphook’s daughter Miriam falling and rolling over in the season of ’85.
Lady Twombley.
Lor’ how sorry I feel for anybody who isn’t a mother! But, I say, there’s a bit that wants taking in there. [Pinching up the shoulder of Imogen’s dress.] Gaylustre, you must tell your woman Antoinette this won’t do.
Mrs. Gaylustre.
Oh, Lady Twombley—please!
[Mrs. Gaylustre puts her handkerchief to her eyes.]
Lady Twombley.