“Mrs. Scorbitt.”
“And what does Mrs. Scorbitt want?”
“Did that horrible flash of lightning strike Ballistic Cottage?”
“I have every reason to believe so.”
“Good Heavens! The lightning—”
“Do not be uneasy, Mrs. Scorbitt.”
“You are not hurt, dear Mr. Maston?”
“Not at all.”
“You are sure you have not been touched?”
“I am only touched by your thoughtfulness for me,” said the philosopher gallantly.