Miss Spelwane. No, you haven't; and I thought it so considerate of you.
[Mr. Shorthorn gives up dragging, in discouragement.
Pill. (sotto voce, to Miss Spelwane). Have you quite done sitting on that poor unfortunate man? I heard you!
Miss Spelw. (in the same tone). I'm afraid I have been rather beastly to him. But, oh, he is such a bore—he would talk about his horrid "silos" till I asked him whether they were easy to tame. After that, the subject dropped—somehow.
Pill. I see you've been punishing him for not happening to be a distinguished Poet. I thought he was to have been the fortunate man?
Miss Spelw. So he was; but they changed it all at the last moment: it really was rather provoking. I could have talked to him.
Pill. Lady Rhoda appears to be consoling him. Poor dear Archie's face is quite a study. But really I don't see that his poetry is so very wonderful; no more did you this morning!
Miss Spelw. Because you deliberately picked out the worst bits, and read them as badly as you could!
Pill. Ah, well, he's here to read them for himself now. I daresay he'd be delighted to be asked.
Miss Spelw. Do you know, Bertie, that's rather a good idea of yours. I'll ask him to read us something to-night.