Mrs Jennings. Ah! I see you don't understand—Never mind, I might have expected it, for you don't look very bright. I wonder where I put my newspaper. Oh, there it is.
Duke [handing it to her]. Allow me.
Mrs Jennings [opens it out; reads]. Thank you.
Duke. Do you consider the Ladies' Pictorial an agreeable paper?
Mrs Jennings [behind paper]. Particularly agreeable—when I can enjoy it in peace. [Holding up paper between them].
Duke [half to himself]. I, on the contrary, dread being left alone with my own thoughts! For I am haunted, possessed by one idea—the thought of that beautiful unknown—that lovely Russian I am seeking. [Looking cautiously at his companion]. Don't go on reading too long, madam; do talk to me again. Your fresh unconventionality takes me out of myself.
Mrs Jennings [moves her paper to one side, and looks angrily at him]. My fresh what?
Mrs Jennings [returning to her paper]. I'll thank you not to use that language to me.
Duke. I beg your pardon, I'm sure.