Miss T. (with a glance at her neighbour). I presume he'd reasons enough. He's a vurry cautious man. Likely he was afraid he'd get bitten.
Miss P. (after a swift scrutiny of Miss T.'s features). Oh, Bob, remind me to get some more of that mosquito stuff. I should so hate to be bitten—such a dreadful disfigurement!
Miss T. (to the Moon). I declare if I don't believe I can feel some creature trying to sting me now!
Miss P. Some people are hardly recognisable, Bob, and they say the marks never quite disappear!
Miss T. Poppa, don't you wonder what Charley's doing just now? I'd like to know if he's found any one yet to feel an interest in the great Amurrcan Novel. It's curious how interested people do get in that novel, considering it's none of it written, and never will be. I guess sometimes he makes them believe he means something by it. They don't understand it's only Charley's way!
Miss P. The crush isn't quite so bad now. Mr. Podbury, if you will kindly ask your friend not to hold on to our gondola, we should probably be better able to turn. (Culchard, who had fondly imagined himself undetected, takes his hand away as if it were scorched.) Now we can get away. (To Gondolier.) Voltiamo, se vi piace, prestissimo!
[The gondola turns and departs.
Miss T. Well, I do just enjoy making that Prendergast girl perfectly wild, and that's a fact. (Reflectively.) And it's queer, but I like her ever so much all the time. Don't you think that's too fonny of me, Mr. Culchard, now? [Culchard feigns a poetic abstraction.