It isn't—it isn't Sylvia!
MR. BEN DIXON.
Certainly not. You are quite right, my dear sir, it is not. That lady is buried.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Not yet, Ben. Don't you get anticipating history to that extent.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I mean, my dear, that she is sunk in Mrs. Ben Dixon.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Yes, it is a bit of a come down. (Mr. Ben Dixon, crestfallen, retires to the fire.) Well, I am glad to see you. Why, you don't seem to have altered a day. Bless the man, you look quite young. (Cherry chuckles and plumes himself. She puts up her glass and examines him). Until one looks into you a bit. (He coughs drily). Well, and what have you been doing with yourself all these years?