Maj.: I fancy they want French children. Mine don’t even speak French.
Em.: There’s always a chance that one of them might turn out depraved and vicious, and then you could disown him. I’ve heard of that being done.
Maj.: But, good gracious, you’ve got to
educate him first. You can’t expect a boy to be vicious till he’s been to a good school.
Em.: Why couldn’t he be naturally depraved? Lots of boys are.
Maj.: Only when they inherit it from depraved parents. You don’t suppose there’s any depravity in me, do you?
Em.: It sometimes skips a generation, you know. Weren’t any of your family bad?
Maj.: There was an aunt who was never spoken of.
Em.: There you are!
Maj.: But one can’t build too much on that. In mid-Victorian days they labelled all sorts of things as unspeakable that we should speak about quite tolerantly. I dare say this particular aunt had only married a Unitarian, or rode to hounds on both sides of her horse, or something of that sort. Anyhow, we can’t wait indefinitely for one of the children to take after a doubtfully depraved great-aunt. Something else must be thought of.