Lady Culv. (with just a suspicion of malice). Perhaps, Rohesia, you would like him to take you in?
Lady Cant. That, of course, is quite out of the question. I see you have given me the Bishop—he's a poor, dry stick of a man—never forgets he was the Headmaster of Swisham—but he's always glad to meet me. I freshen him up so.
Lady Culv. I really don't know whom I can give Mr. Spurrell. There's Rhoda Cokayne, but she's not poetical, and she'll get on much better with Archie Bearpark. Oh, I forgot Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris—she's sure to talk, at all events.
Lady Cant. (as she corrects the list). A lively, agreeable woman—she'll amuse him. Now you can give Rupert the list.
[Sir Rupert and various members of the house-party appear one by one; Lord and Lady Lullington, the Bishop of Birchester and Mrs. Rodney, and Mr. and Mrs. Earwaker, and Mr. Shorthorn are announced at intervals; salutations, recognitions, and commonplaces are exchanged.
Lady Cant. (later—to the Bishop, genially). Ah, my dear Dr. Rodney, you and I haven't met since we had our great battle about—now, was it the necessity of throwing open the Public Schools to the lower classes—for whom of course they were originally intended—or was it the failure of the Church to reach the Working Man? I really forget.
The Bishop (who has a holy horror of the Countess). I—ah—fear I cannot charge my memory so precisely, my dear Lady Cantire. We—ah—differ unfortunately on so many subjects. I trust, however, we may—ah—agree to suspend hostilities on this occasion?
Lady Cant. (with even more bonhomie). Don't be too sure of that, Bishop. I've several crows to pluck with you, and we are to go in to dinner together, you know!
The Bishop. Indeed? I had no conception that such a pleasure was in store for me! (To himself.) This must be the penance for breaking my rule of never dining out on Saturday! Severe—but merited!
Lady Cant. I wonder, Bishop, if you have seen this wonderful volume of poetry that everyone is talking about—Andromeda?