SIR CHARLES. Who's that?
LADY DEDMOND. That Mr. Malise.
SIR CHARLES. Oh! That chap!
GEORGE. Clare isn't that sort.
LADY DEDMOND. I know. But she catches up notions very easily. I think it's a great pity you ever came across him.
SIR CHARLES. Where did you pick him up?
GEORGE. Italy—this Spring—some place or other where they couldn't speak English.
SIR CHARLES. Um! That's the worst of travellin'.
LADY DEDMOND. I think you ought to have dropped him. These literary people—-[Quietly] From exchanging ideas to something else, isn't very far, George.
SIR CHARLES. We'll make him play Bridge. Do him good, if he's that sort of fellow.