MISS DYOTT.
What!
QUECKETT.
Eh? [Correcting himself ] He writes me—[Referring to the letter.] "Now, old chap, do let me give you the details of our new self-loading eighty-ton gun." Well, Carrie, what the deuce am I to do? It seems a nice gun. [She shrugs her shoulders.] Carrie, what is your Vere to do? [She makes no answer, he approaches her and touches her on the shoulder.']Carrie. Carrie, look at your Vere. Vere speaks to you. [He sits on her lap, she looks up affectionately.] Carrie, darling, you know old Jack is such a devil—
MISS DYOTT.
Eh?
QUECKETT.
A nice devil, you know—an exceedingly nice devil. Now I can't show up at the Club after sending in my resignation—they'd quiz me awfully. But I must entertain poor old Jack. [Coaxingly.] Eh? Resignation sent in through misunderstanding, eh? [Pinching her cheek.] Ten little ginny. winnies, eh?
MISS DYOTT.
Not a ginny-winriy! For a Club, not half a ginny-winny!