Bodily, no. We supped in the kitchen at two. It’s amazing how emotion stimulates the appetite. No, Clement, her indisposition is of the mind. She wept.
Parbury.
All the time?
Armitage.
All the time. [Slight pause. Then he adds with a sigh.] I had rather a trying night.
[They all drink champagne; Gunning rises, bends over a rose-bush, and hums the air of the music-hall song, “’E ’as my sympathy.”
Armitage.
I’m not without experience. Poor dear Mabel’s mother, for instance—one of the best women in the world—she would cry at times, and if she got well off the scratch, she was—er—hard to beat. Mind you, I’ll be fair; I was much to blame—very much to blame. But as for Mabel, bless you, that dear child could have given her poor mother a stone and—er—what’s the expression?
Gunning.