Lady Maisie (to herself). I do trust Mr. Spurrell isn't saying something too dreadful. I'm sure I heard my name just now. (Aloud, absently, to Captain Thicknesse.) No, did you really? How amusing it must have been!
Captain Thicknesse (aggrieved). If you'd done me the honour of payin' any attention to what I was sayin', you'd have found out it wasn't amusin'.
Lady Maisie (starting). Oh, wasn't it? I'm so sorry I missed it. I—I'm afraid I was thinking of something else. Do tell me again!
Captain Thicknesse, (still hurt). No, I won't inflict it on you—not worth repeatin'. And I should only be takin' off your attention from a fellow that does know how to talk.
Lady Maisie (with a guiltiness which she tries to carry off under dignity). I don't think I understand what you mean.
Captain Thicknesse. Well, I couldn't help hearin' what you said to your poet-friend before we went in about having to put up with partners; and it isn't what you may call flattering to a fellow's feelin's, being put up with.
Lady Maisie (hotly). It—it was not intended for you. You entirely misunderstood!
Captain Thicknesse. Dare say I'm very dense; but, even to my comprehension, it's plain enough that the reason why you weren't listenin' to me just now was that the poet had the luck to say somethin' that you found more interesting.
Lady Maisie. You are quite wrong—it's too absurd; I never even met Mr. Spurrell in my life till this afternoon. If you really must know, I heard him mention my name, and—and I wondered, naturally, what he could possibly be saying.
Captain Thicknesse. Somethin' very charmin', and poetical, and complimentary, I'm sure, and I'm makin' you lose it all. Apologise—shan't happen again.