LADY MARY (sighing). I do; but there are so many things to remember.
LORD LOAM (sympathetically). There are—(in a whisper). Do you know, Mary, I constantly find myself secreting hairpins.
LADY MARY. I find it so difficult to go up steps one at a time.
LORD LOAM. I was dining with half a dozen members of our party last Thursday, Mary, and they were so eloquent that I couldn’t help wondering all the time how many of their heads he would have put in the bucket.
LADY MARY. I use so many of his phrases. And my appetite is so scandalous. Father, I usually have a chop before we sit down to dinner.
LORD LOAM. As for my clothes—(wriggling). My dear, you can’t think how irksome collars are to me nowadays.
LADY MARY. They can’t be half such an annoyance, father, as—(She looks dolefully at her skirt.)
LORD LOAM (hurriedly). Quite so—quite so. You have dressed early to-night, Mary.
LADY MARY. That reminds me; I had a note from Brocklehurst saying that he would come a few minutes before his mother as—as he wanted to have a talk with me. He didn’t say what about, but of course we know. (His lordship fidgets.) (With feeling.) It was good of you to tell him, father. Oh, it is horrible to me—(covering her face). It seemed so natural at the time.
LORD LOAM (petulantly). Never again make use of that word in this house, Mary.