Ned. Yes—spoiling more paper. I’m an annuity to the local stationer.
Tom. Well, perhaps in your old age the local butterman will be an annuity to you.
Ned. Gad, I shall want one at the pace I’m going.
Tom. Sir Humphrey not come round yet?
Ned. No, we’re still outcasts.
Lucy. But he makes us an allowance.
Ned. Yes. He hasn’t forgiven us, but he makes us an allowance. That’s the governor all over.
Tom. And I suppose you spend a good deal more than he allows you? (Lucy sits, R.)
Ned. Yes, that’s me all over.
Tom. Well, I won’t preach.