Gunning.
Oh, I’d have written to you, but what was the good of it? I’m not literary, and I’m not married.
Parbury.
And so you’ve kept away for five years.
Gunning.
About that.
[Sits on arm of sofa, L.C.
Parbury.
Five years and three months—for I’ve been married all that time, and you neither came to the wedding nor called on me afterwards.
Gunning.