carnaby. George will serve me . . . protesting. His principles are vile, but he has the education of a gentleman. Swords or . . . ? Swords. And at noon shall we say? There's shade behind a certain barn, midway between this and Tatton's.
lord john. [Not taking him seriously yet.] What if we both die horridly?
carnaby. You are at liberty to make me a written apology.
lord john. A joke's a joke.
carnaby deliberately strikes him in the face with the twist of bass.
lord john. That's enough.
carnaby. [In explanatory apology.] My friend, you are so obtuse. Abud!
lord john. Mr. Leete, are you serious?
carnaby. Perfectly serious. Let's go to bed. Abud, you can get to your work.
Wig in hand, mr. leete courteously conducts his guest towards the house. abud returns to his tools and his morning's work.