Awkward.—Miss Fillip (to Young Gentleman, who has taken her in to dinner at Olympia Manor). “You say that you don’t shoot, hunt, fish, drive, or ride, and that you hate cycling. Now, what on earth are you staying here for?”
Young Gentleman (languidly). “Because I can’t afford to live anywhere else in the winter.”
[Then it flashes across Miss F. that she is talking to a younger son of the house.
FORM!
“Good Heavens! What a swell! What is it? Tea fight? Wedding breakfast?”
“Oh no; only going to my tailor’s. Must be decently dressed when I go to see him. He’s so beastly critical!”