Iris. Splendid, Victor. You’re frightfully witty.
Clytie. Heavens, Victor’s managed to produce a rhyme.
Otto. ‘Felix—bee licks’—that’s good, damn good.
Victor. Poetry—what is it but lying and fooling?
Iris. Oh no, it stirs the feelings. I’m fearfully fond of it.
Otto. Ha! Blotto!
Clytie. Who’s blotto?
Otto. Rhymes with Otto. Good—eh, what?
Iris. You’re terribly clever, Otto.