Pauline, I forbid you! Sit down at once. If my family are not good enough for your friends, let them drop us and be hanged to them.
Pauline.
Claude, don’t storm. It’s so vulgar. And there’s not the least occasion for it either. I only thought it would be pleasanter for all our visitors—your dear mother among the number—if we avoided all chance of disagreeable scenes. But there, dear, you’ve no savoir faire, and I’m afraid we shall never get into Society. It’s very sad.
Claude.
[Touched by her patience.] I am sorry, my dear. I ought to have kept my temper. But I wish you weren’t so set upon getting into Society. Isn’t it a little snobbish?
Pauline.
[Wilfully misunderstanding him.] It’s dreadfully snobbish, dear; the most snobbish sort of Society I know. All provincial towns are like that. But it’s the only Society there is here, you know, and we must make the best of it.
Claude.
My poor Pauline.