Mrs. F. "You're a brute, sir."
Mr. F. "I wish I were; for then I should be able to swim."
Mrs. F. "Mr. Fydgetts! Ain't you a-coming to help me?"
Mr. F. "No! It serves you right for bringing me down to this stupid place."
Mrs. F. "I, indeed. Why, I wanted to go to Brighton and you would come to Margate—you said it was cheaper".
Mr. F. "It's false; I said no such thing".
Mrs. F. "You did, you did!"
Mr. F. "O, woman! woman! Where do you expect to go to?"
Mrs. F. "To the bottom; unless you come and help me!"
Mr. F. "Help yourself. I'm s-i-n-k-i-n-g"—