Trelawny of The "Wells": A Comedietta in Four Acts

by Arthur Wing Pinero

Still unrecognized, still confined within the almost boundless and yet repressive limits of Utility—General Utility? [Nodding.] H'm, still.

Imogen.

Dear me! a thousand pities! I positively mean it. Tom.

Thanks.

Imogen.

What do you think! You were mixed up in a funny dream I dreamt one night lately.

Tom.

[Bowing.] Highly complimented.

Imogen.

It was after a supper which rather—well, I'd had some strawberries sent me from Hertfordshire.