Glad. She doesn't speak on the same platforms with him.
Fred. Don't blame her, either. Only one star turn to each show, eh?
Glad. Anyhow, father's instructions are to keep Garside here till he comes home, if we can.
Fred. All right. Tell Timson to lock him up in the pantry and keep him there till the election's over.
Glad. Afraid that's too crude, Freddie. I'll do my best to hold him for to-night.
Fred. Oh? Be careful. Flirtation's a risky game even when both sides know the rules. It's always apt to end in marriage; and that chap won't know the rules. Much better lock him up.
Glad. Kidnapping's out of date.
Fred. Oh, you want him to get in. He's fascinated you.
Glad, (tartly). That's doubtless why I've been canvassing for Mr. Beverley all day, while you've been watching a cricket match.
Fred. Hang it, Glad, someone's got to support-county cricket. I did a jolly plucky thing to-day. Wore old Beverley's colours and nearly got mobbed in the bar by a beastly gang of Radicals.