"Really, Hector, I'm sure you can't say that of me."
"There you are, Lucy, can't discuss a thing without taking it personally. Besides, you're as bad as any of them. You're always at me to become a keen soldier, yet, when the chance of active service comes along, you——"
"Dear, that's not fair, as I've told you before. You surely wouldn't like me not to care, Hector, like some wives?"
"I don't suppose I should, but it's not that I'm talking about, it's the inconsistency. But, about cats and women a cat only takes what it wants, a woman, on the contrary——"
"Oh, bother the cats! I want to talk about something else, the Regimental Cup to-morrow."
"When I propose to be ten miles away at Rarkat Jheel, quail shooting."
"Oh, but, Hector, you can't really. The regiment's At Home, and we must put in an appearance; besides, I should like it."
"Like it, a fifth-rate race-meeting?"
"Yes, I should. I'm not a hundred, Hector, and every woman wants a little gaiety at times. Of course I love going out shooting with you and all that, but I think just occasionally we might vary the programme a little."
"Oh, of course, if you're set upon it, Lucy, that's another matter, but it's a weary business."