Sir George.
I say, the flies under the verandah make you swear. [The Servant hands coffee to Paula, who declines it, then to Sir George, who takes a cup.] Hi! wait a bit! [He looks at the tray searchingly, then puts back his cup.] Never mind. [Quietly to Lady Orreyed.] I say, they're dooced sparin' with their liqueur, ain't they?
[The Servant goes out at window.
Paula.
[To Sir George.] Won't you take coffee, George?
Sir George.
No, thanks. It's gettin' near time for a whisky and potass. [Approaching Paula, regarding Lady Orreyed admiringly.] I say, Birdie looks rippin' to-night, don't she?
Paula.
Your wife?
Sir George.