mr. voysey. We left him instructing Ethel how to hold a cue.
beatrice. Perhaps I can finish my letter.
Off she goes. alice is idly following with a little paper her hand has fallen on behind the clock.
mr. voysey. Don't run away, my dear.
alice. I'm taking this to Auntie . . Notes and Queries . . she wants it.
mr. george booth. Damn . . this gravel's stuck to my shoe.
mr. voysey. That's a new made path.
mr. george booth. Now don't you think it's too early to have put in those plants?
mr. voysey. No, we're getting frost at night already.