"Oh, are you here, George?" she said. "I'm glad. I'm sick of everything."
"H'm. I'm glad I'm useful. Are the others having their usual prayer-meeting?"
"What do you mean?"
"That Mackenzie of yours and your brother, sitting in the dip and talking. I can't think what on earth they find to say."
"Well, you see, George, they are very clever people. Let us sit down. You can't—I mean you and I can't appreciate them properly."
"The Mackenzie looks a fool."
"He is a great friend of mine. You must not be rude. Manners makyth man. According to that, you are not always a man when you're with me."
He breathed deeply. "There's something about you—"
"Now you're blaming me, and that's not gallant."
"You think I'm not fit to breathe the same air with you, don't you?"