Mr. Toovey (coming to the rescue). Excuse me, young Sir, but I don't think you quite realise who that lady is. (With mild self-assertion.) She is my wife, Sir, my Wife! And she is not accustomed to being hunted all over Upper Tooting, or anywhere else!
Mr. Jannaway (to himself). I've got this dear lady on toast. I can see! But I mustn't do anything ungentlemanly or I may get the sack if the governor gets to hear of it. (Aloud.) If I'm mistaken I'm ready to apologise; but the lady bears such a really remarkable likeness to a Mrs. Tomkinson Jones, residing (so she gave me to understand) at The Laburnums, Upper Tooting, that——
Mrs. Toovey (finding her voice). I do not reside at Upper Tooting!
Mr. Jann. (in silky tones). Precisely so, Madam. No more does Mrs.—hem—Tomkinson Jones!
Charles. And is that the only point of resemblance between your friend Mrs. Jones and my Aunt, eh?
Mr. Jann. That's a matter of opinion, Sir. I've my own. But neither the lady nor yet myself are particularly likely to forget our meeting. It was only last Saturday evening, too!
Mr. Toov. Why, then you must have met Mrs. Toovey at the Zenana Mission Conference?
Mr. Jann. Well that isn't the name I know it by; but if the lady prefers it, why——
Mrs. Toov. (hoarsely). I—I deny having ever met the young man before, anywhere; that is, I—I don't remember doing so. Take him away!
Mr. Jann. I should be most averse, of course, to contradicting a lady, and I can only conclude that she is so much in the 'abit of fetching unoffending strangers what I may venture to term, if you'll permit the vulgarity, a slap in the jaw, that such a trifling circumstance makes no impression on her. It did on me!