Mrs. M.G. (who privately thinks this rather vulgar). How witty you are! That's quite worthy of a—Sabrina, really! Then you will come? So glad. And now I mustn't keep you from your other admirers any longer. [She dismisses him.
LATER.
Mrs. M.G. (to her Brother-in-law). How could you say that dear Mr. TABLETT was dull, PHIL? I found him perfectly charming—so original and unconventional! He's promised to come to me. By the way, what did you say the name of his book was?
Phil. I never said he had written a book.
Mrs. M.G. PHIL—you did!—Sabrina's Other—Something. Why, I've been praising it to him, entirely on your recommendation.
Phil. No, no—your mistake. I only asked you if you'd read Sabrina's Uncle's Other Niece, and, as I made up the title on the spur of the moment, I should have been rather surprised if you had. He never wrote a line in his life.
Mrs. M.G. How abominable of you! But surely he's famous for something? He talks like it. [With reviving hope.
Phil. Oh, yes, he's the inventor and patentee of the new "Sabrina" Soap—he says he'll make a fortune over it.
Mrs. M.G. But he hasn't even done that yet! PHIL, I'll never forgive you for letting me make such an idiot of myself. What am I to do now? I can't have him coming to me—he's really too impossible!
Phil. Do? Oh, order some of the soap, and wash your hands of him, I suppose—not that he isn't a good deal more presentable than some of your lions, after all's said and done!