[He glances at the COLONEL poring over papers, and, shrugging his shoulders, strolls away.]
MISS BEECH. [Sitting in the swing.] I see your horrid papers.
COLONEL. Be quiet, Peachey!
MISS BEECH. On a beautiful summer's day, too.
COLONEL. That'll do now.
MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] For every ounce you take out of a gold mine you put two in.
COLONEL. Who told you that rubbish?
MISS BEECH. [With devilry.] You did!
COLONEL. This is n't an ordinary gold mine.
MISS BEECH. Oh! quite a special thing.