Madame (severely). Mr. Regniati, hand the salt.
Mrs. Frimmely. What an absurd cloak that Mrs. Tringmer had.
Miss Bella. I suppose she thought it was quite the fashion.
Mrs. Frimmely. Who was that lady—Captain Byrton, do you know?—who came in rustling all up the Church, and so scented! as if she'd stepped out of a perfumer's.
Byrton. Don't know. Perhaps she has stepped out of a perfumer's, and is an advertisement.
Happy Thought (for a perfumer).—To send scented people about. Questions asked, e.g. Stranger (sniffing) goes up politely and inquires, “I beg a hundred pardons, but what scent—what delicious scent are you wearing?” Then the lady replies, “Don't mention it, Ma'am. It's (whatever the name is), and there's the card.” And gives her the perfumer's address.
Miss Adelaide. I thought Miss Vyner rather prettily dressed.
Mrs. Frimmely. Oh! but did you see her gloves! Such a fit!
Miss Bella. And such a colour!
Cazell. I wonder who that bald-headed man in front of me was? There was a collection, and he put a sovereign into the plate.