Lady Cantire. I see. I scarcely expected that you would condescend to such weakness. I—ah—think you are going down to stay at Wyvern for a few days, are you not?
Spurrell (to himself). I was right. What Tom said did fetch the old girl; no harm in humouring her a bit. (Aloud.) Yes—oh yes, they—aw—wanted me to run down when I could.
Lady Cantire. I heard they were expecting you. You will find Wyvern a pleasant house—for a short visit.
Spurrell (to himself). She heard! Oh, she wants to kid me she knows the Culverins. Rats! (Aloud.) Shall I, though? I dare say.
Lady Cantire. Lady Culverin is a very sweet woman; a little limited, perhaps, not intellectual, or quite what one would call the grande dame; but perhaps that could scarcely be expected.
Spurrell (vaguely). Oh, of course not—no. (To himself.) If she bluffs, so can I! (Aloud.) It's funny your turning out to be an acquaintance of Lady C.'s, though.
Lady Cantire. You think so? But I should hardly call myself an acquaintance.
Spurrell (to himself). Old cat's trying to back out of it now; she shan't, though! (Aloud.) Oh, then I suppose you know Sir Rupert best?
Lady Cantire. Yes, I certainly know Sir Rupert better.
Spurrell (to himself). Oh, you do, do you? We'll see. (Aloud.) Nice cheery old chap, Sir Rupert, isn't he? I must tell him I travelled down in the same carriage with a particular friend of his. (To himself.) That'll make her sit up!