I take it, Caroline, that, in the language of the hunting field, you "scented" a gentleman.
MISS DYOTT.
Scented a gentleman! In the few weeks of our marriage I have scented you and cigaretted you, wined you and liqueured you, tailored and hatted and booted you. I have darned and mended and washed you—gruelled you with a cold, tinctured you with a toothache, and linimented you with the gout. [Fiercely.] Have I not? Have I not?
QUECKETT.
You certainly have had exceptional privileges. Familiarity appears to have fulfilled its usual functions and bred—
MISS DYOTT.
The most utter contempt. Have I not paid your debts?
QUECKETT.
[Promptly.] Not at my suggestion.