Parker-Jennings.

[With a deprecating laugh.] I’m afraid it’s the same old fool as usual, Maria.

Mrs. Parker-Jennings.

Don’t make jokes at me, Robert. Keep them for your City friends.

Parker-Jennings.

He’s had breakfast.

Mrs. Parker-Jennings.

’As he indeed. At ’alf-past eleven. He’s not putting himself out, is he?

Vincent.

When’s he going, father?