Drummle.

You're wrong there; I know one—

Aubrey.

[Listening.] That's Paula's cart. Let's discuss this again.

Drummle.

[Going up to the window and looking out.] It isn't the dog-cart. [Turning to Aubrey.] I hope you'll forgive me, old chap.

Aubrey.

What for?

Drummle.

Whose wheels do you think have been cutting ruts in your immaculate drive?