Podb. (discontentedly). It's all very well for you to talk—with Miss TROTTER all to yourself. I suppose you're regularly engaged by this time, eh?
Culch. Not quite. There's still a ——. And your probation, that's practically at an end?
Podb. I don't know. Can't make her out. She wouldn't sit on me the way she does unless she liked me, I suppose. But I say, it must be awf—rather jolly for you with Miss TROTTER? She's got so much go, eh?
Culch. You used to say she wasn't what you call cultivated.
Podb. I know I did. That's just what I like about her! At least—well, we both ought to think ourselves uncommonly lucky beggars, I'm sure! [He sighs more heavily than ever.
Culch. You especially, my dear PODBURY. In fact, I doubt if you're half grateful enough!
Podb. (snappishly). Yes, I am, I tell you. I'm not grumbling, am I? I know as well as you do she's miles too good for me. Haven't I said so? Then what the devil do you keep on nagging at me for, eh?
Culch. I am glad you see it in that light. Aren't you a little irritable to-night?
Podb. No, I'm not. It's those filthy canals. And the way you talk—as if a girl like Miss TROTTER wasn't—!
Culch. I really can't allow you to lecture me. I am not insensible to my good-fortune—if others are. Now we'll drop the subject.