Young Paulover. They were married really three weeks ago, but without any breakfast—I don't mean a bacon breakfast, I mean a proper breakfast. But we girls think they ought to have a wedding-cake and everything complete to start them in life together: and that's why you're giving this party, you know.
QUECKETT.
Now, understand me, I will not be dragged into such a conspiracy!
PEGGY.
But you're in it.
QUECKETT.
The Ranklings are acquaintances of mine, almost relatives; Admiral Rankling's cousin married the sister of the man who bought my brother's horses. [Rubbing his hands together.] I wash my hands of all you vexing girls.
PEGGY.
Don't fret about it, please. Nothing can ever make Mrs. Paulover Miss Rankling again. I'll go and dress while you finish your letter.