Mrs Gloring [excitedly]. Oh, I hear it!
It is something like a woodpecker inside of one.
Drygull. Not a word, my dear madam, if you please.
Lady Fritterly [after a long pause]. I imagine I hear a very faint something; there it goes—boom, boom, boom—at the back of my tympanum.
Lord Fondleton. That’s not like a woodpecker.
Mrs Gloring. No; it seems to me more like tic-tic-tic.
Mrs Allmash. How too tiresome! I can’t hear anything. I suppose it is on account of the rumble of the carriages.
Lord Fondleton [whispers to Mrs Gloring]. I hear something inside of me; do you know what?
Mrs Gloring. No; what?
Lord Fondleton. The beating of my own heart. Can’t you guess for whom?