He. You think so? What is the mood now?
She. I can’t tell. How cold it is! Let us get on quickly.
He. ‘Better walk a little. Stop your jhampanies and get out. What’s the matter with you this evening, dear?
She. Nothing. You must grow accustomed to my ways. If I’m boring you I can go home. Here’s Captain Congleton coming, I daresay he’ll be willing to escort me.
He. Goose! Between us, too! Damn Captain Congleton.
She. Chivalrous Knight. Is it your habit to swear much in talking? It jars a little, and you might swear at me.
He. My angel! I didn’t know what I was saying; and you changed so quickly that I couldn’t follow. I’ll apologise in dust and ashes.
She. There’ll be enough of those later on Good-night, Captain Congleton. Going to the singing-quadrilles already? What dances am I giving you next week? No! You must have written them down wrong. Five and Seven, I said. If you’ve made a mistake, I certainly don’t intend to suffer for it. You must alter your programme.
He. I thought you told me that you had not been going out much this season?
She. Quite true, but when I do I dance with Captain Congleton. He dances very nicely.