Undershell (to himself, displeased). I wish she could bring herself to take me a little more seriously. I can not consider it a compliment to be called a "cure"—whatever that is.
Steptoe (considering it time to interfere). Come, Mr. Undershell, all this whispering reelly is not fair on the company! You mustn't hide your bushel under a napkin like this; don't reserve all your sparklers for Miss Phillipson there.
Undershell (stiffly). I—ah—was not making any remark that could be described as a sparkler, sir. I don't sparkle.
Phillipson (demurely). He was being rather sentimental just then, Mr. Steptoe, as it happens. Not that he can't sparkle, when he likes. I'm sure if you'd heard how he went on in the fly!
Steptoe (with malice). Not having been privileged to be present, perhaps our friend here could recollect a few of his happiest efforts and repeat them.
Miss Dolman. Do, Mr. Undershell, please. I do love a good laugh.
Undershell (crimson). I—you really must excuse me. I said nothing worth repeating. I don't remember that I was particularly——
Steptoe. Pardon me. Afraid I was indiscreet. We must spare Miss Phillipson's blushes by all manner of means.
Phillipson. Oh, it was nothing of that sort, Mr. Steptoe! I've no objection to repeat what he said. He called me a little green something or other. No; he said that in the train, though. But he would have it that the old cab-horse was a magic steed, and the fly an enchanted chariot; and I don't know what all. (As nobody smiles.) It sounded awfully funny as he said it, with his face perfectly solemn like it is now, I assure you it did!
Steptoe (patronisingly). I can readily believe it. We shall have you contributing to some of our yumerous periodicals, Mr. Undershell, sir, before long. Such facetious talent is too good to be lost, it reelly is.