lord caversham. And it is high time for you to get married. You are thirty-four years of age, sir.
lord goring. Yes, father, but I only admit to thirty-two—thirty-one and a half when I have a really good buttonhole. This buttonhole is not . . . trivial enough.
lord caversham. I tell you you are thirty-four, sir. And there is a draught in your room, besides, which makes your conduct worse. Why did you tell me there was no draught, sir? I feel a draught, sir, I feel it distinctly.
lord goring. So do I, father. It is a dreadful draught. I will come and see you to-morrow, father. We can talk over anything you like. Let me help you on with your cloak, father.
lord caversham. No, sir; I have called this evening for a definite purpose, and I am going to see it through at all costs to my health or yours. Put down my cloak, sir.
lord goring. Certainly, father. But let us go into another room. [Rings bell.] There is a dreadful draught here. [Enter phipps.] Phipps, is there a good fire in the smoking-room?
phipps. Yes, my lord.
lord goring. Come in there, father. Your sneezes are quite heartrending.
lord caversham. Well, sir, I suppose I have a right to sneeze when I choose?
lord goring. [Apologetically.] Quite so, father. I was merely expressing sympathy.