"Daisy! Why, about Bungay and Mr. Bush! Why, when you first saw him in his meat-safe, you——"
"Yes, yes, I remember. But I daresay it wasn't really a meat-safe, though it was very like one." She started, as if struck by a sudden idea. "Bungay!" she cried, in an excited whisper. "Bungay! your trousers. The very place!"
"Bungay, my trousers! What do you mean? Surely it would spoil them!"
"Listen! You want to change them, don't you?"
"Yes, yes, as soon as possible."
"In a quiet, sweet place, full of roses, the hum of bees, the——"
"I don't know that the hum of bees is actually necessary. I might manage without that."
"And I—I am weary of it all. I am sick of being cut and cold-shouldered."
"Already? I thought you enjoyed it."
"Yes, just at first. But now I want to get out of it all. I can't go to the races to-morrow."