Mrs. G. (Her back to G.) What's that for?
Capt. G. Nothing. (Aside.) There's not much in it, but I wish I'd torn it up.
Mrs. G. (Turning over contents of table.) I know you'll hate me for this; but I do want to see what your work is like. (A pause.) Pip, what are “farcybuds”?
Capt. G. Hah! Would you really like to know? They aren't pretty things.
Mrs. G. This Journal of Veterinary Science says they are of “absorbing interest.” Tell me.
Capt. G. (Aside.) It may turn her attention.
Gives a long and designedly loathsome account of glanders and farcy.
Mrs. G. Oh, that's enough. Don't go on!
Capt. G. But you wanted to know—Then these things suppurate and matterate and spread—
Mrs. G. Pin, you're making me sick! You're a horrid, disgusting schoolboy.