Lady Culverin (with some increase of colour). That is not what I meant, Rohesia—as you know perfectly well. And I do say that this Mr. Spurrell's manner is most objectionable; when he's not obsequious, he's horribly familiar!
Lady Cantire (sharply). I have not observed it. He strikes me as well enough—for that class of person. And it is intellect, soul, all that kind of thing that I value. I look below the surface, and I find a great deal that is very original and charming in this young man. And surely, my dear, if I find myself able to associate with him, you need not be so fastidious! I consider him my protégé, and I won't have him slighted. He is far too good for Vivien Spelwane!
Lady Culverin (with just a suspicion of malice). Perhaps, Rohesia, you would like him to take you in?
Lady Cantire. That, of course, is quite out of the question. I see you have given me the Bishop—he's a poor, dry stick of a man—never forgets he was the Headmaster of Swisham—but he's always glad to meet me. I freshen him up so.
Lady Culverin. I really don't know whom I can give Mr. Spurrell. There's Rhoda Cokayne, but she's not poetical, and she'll get on much better with Archie Bearpark. Oh, I forgot Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris—she's sure to talk, at all events.
Lady Cantire (as she corrects the list). A lively, agreeable woman—she'll amuse him. Now you can give Rupert the list.
[Sir Rupert and various members of the house-party appear one by one; Lord and Lady Lullington, the Bishop of Birchester and Mrs. Rodney, Mr. and Mrs. Earwaker, and Mr. Shorthorn are announced at intervals; salutations, recognitions, and commonplaces are exchanged.
Lady Cantire (later—to the Bishop, genially). Ah, my dear Bishop, you and I haven't met since we had our great battle about—now, was it the necessity of throwing open the Public Schools to the lower classes—for whom of course they were originally intended—or was it the failure of the Church to reach the working man? I really forget.
The Bishop (who has a holy horror of the Countess). I—ah—fear I cannot charge my memory so precisely, my dear Lady Cantire. We—ah—differ unfortunately on so many subjects. I trust, however, we may—ah—agree to suspend hostilities on this occasion?
Lady Cantire (with even more bonhomie). Don't be too sure of that, Bishop. I've several crows to pluck with you, and we are to go in to dinner together, you know!