Lady Culverin. Yes, by the 4.45. With dear Maisie. Surely you knew that?
Sir Rupert. In a sort of way; didn't realize it was so near, that's all.
Lady Culverin. It's some time since we had her last. And she wanted to come. I didn't think you would like me to write and put her off.
Sir Rupert. Put her off? Of course I shouldn't, Albinia. If my only sister isn't welcome at Wyvern at any time—I say at any time—where the deuce is she welcome?
Lady Culverin. I don't know, dear Rupert. But—but about the table?
Sir Rupert. So long as you don't put her near me—that's all I care about.
Lady Culverin. I mean—ought I to send her in with Lord Lullington, or the Bishop?
Sir Rupert. Why not let 'em toss up? Loser gets her, of course.
Lady Culverin. Rupert! As if I could suggest such a thing to the Bishop! I suppose she'd better go in with Lord Lullington—he's Lord Lieutenant—and then it won't matter if she does advocate Disestablishment. Oh, but I forgot; she thinks the House of Lords ought to be abolished too!
Sir Rupert. Whoever takes Rohesia in is likely to have a time of it. Talked poor Cantire into his tomb a good ten years before he was due there. Always lecturing, and domineering, and laying down the law, as long as I can remember her. Can't stand Rohesia—never could!