Lady Answerall. Nay; as she claims all Man's special privileges, from votes to cigarettes, from bicycles to latch-keys, she will hardly forego his most cherished and distinctive one—taciturnity!
Mr. Neverout. There was a travelling fellow awhile ago who hung himself up in a cage in the tropical forests, to study the language of—monkeys. Why did not he turn his attention to the equally scanty, inarticulate, and unintelligible utterance of that Society Simian, the haw-haw "Masher"—is not that the term for an up-to-date dandy, my Lord?—of the banquet and the ball-room?
Lady Smart. Ah! now the eloquence-tap is turned on!
Mr. Neverout. But not like the Mulberry One's, at the main, your Ladyship!
Miss Notable. Ah! if they had but companies to turn on talk at pleasure, as they do gas and water!
Colonel Alwit. As it is, it comes like fountains in the desert or Trafalgar Square—only in intermittent spurts and squirts, not like the water company's never-failing service, on the "constant supply" system.
Sir John Linger. Humph! An East-end fishmonger's comment might throw some light on that subject, Colonel.
Lady Sparkish. Well, Sir John, we must admit that the growth of Science keeps pace with the spread of Stupidity. So doubtless the time will soon come when pocket-phonographs will obviate the necessity of individual vocal efforts, and leave men to give undivided attention to their dinners, matrons to their daughters' marriage-chances, maidens to the marriageable men, and marriageable men to their—moustaches!
Mr. Neverout. Unless, indeed, when we know all we shall be silent about everything.
Lord Sparkish. Quite likely, my dear Neverout. Already talk—except in spurts and spasms—is confined mainly to childhood—first or second. Of the Seven Ages of Man—I say nought about Woman, ladies!—why, the first and last only are loquacious.