Mrs. G. (Piteously.) Oh, don't make fun of me! Pip, you know what I mean. When you are reading one of those things about Cavalry, by that idiotic Prince—why doesn't he be a Prince instead of a stable-boy?
Capt. G. Prince Kraft a stable-boy—Oh, my Aunt! Never mind, dear. You were going to say?
Mrs. G. It doesn't matter; you don't care for what I say. Only—only you get up and walk about the room, staring in front of you, and then Mafflin comes in to dinner, and after I'm in the drawing-room I can hear you and him talking, and talking, and talking, about things I can't understand, and—oh, I get so tired and feel so lonely!—I don't want to complain and be a trouble, Pip; but I do indeed I do!
Capt. G. My poor darling! I never thought of that. Why don't you ask some nice people in to dinner?
Mrs. G. Nice people! Where am I to find them? Horrid frumps! And if I did, I shouldn't be amused. You know I only want you.
Capt. G. And you have me surely, Sweetheart?
Mrs. G. I have not! Pip why don't you take me into your life?
Capt. G. More than I do? That would be difficult, dear.
Mrs. G. Yes, I suppose it would—to you. I'm no help to you—no companion to you; and you like to have it so.
Capt. G. Aren't you a little unreasonable, Pussy?