Lady Culverin (in distress). Really, my dear Vivien, I—I don't know what to say. I fancy people would so much rather talk—don't you think so, Rohesia?
Lady Cantire. Probably they would, Albinia. It is most unlikely that they would care to hear anything more intellectual and instructive than the sound of their own voices.
Miss Spelwane. I told Lady Lullington that I was afraid you would think it a bore, Lady Cantire.
Lady Cantire. You are perfectly mistaken, Miss Spelwane. I flatter myself I am quite as capable of appreciating a literary privilege as anybody here. But I cannot answer for its being so acceptable to the majority.
Lady Culverin. No, it wouldn't do at all. And it would be making this young man so much too conspicuous.
Lady Cantire. You are talking nonsense, my dear. When you are fortunate enough to secure a celebrity at Wyvern, you can't make him too conspicuous. I never knew that Laura Lullington had any taste for literature before, but there's something to be said for her suggestion—if it can be carried out; it would at least provide a welcome relief from the usual after-dinner dullness of this sort of gathering.
Miss Spelwane. Then—would you ask him, Lady Cantire?
Lady Cantire. I, my dear? You forget that I am not hostess here. My sister-in-law is the proper person to do that.
Lady Culverin. Indeed I couldn't. But perhaps, Vivien, if you liked to suggest it to him, he might——
Miss Spelwane. I'll try, dear Lady Culverin. And if my poor little persuasions have no effect, I shall fall back on Lady Cantire, and then he can't refuse. I must go and tell dear Lady Lullington—she'll be so pleased! (To herself, as she skims away.) I generally do get my own way. But I mean him to do it to please Me!