Archibald.
I’m quite prepared to live on a hundred and seventy a year, mother. I dare say it would have just as good an effect on my figure as matrimony.
Mrs. Insoley.
[Rather crossly.] I don’t know what you’re talking about, Archibald.
Archibald.
I understood you to recommend marriage as a sort of heroic remedy for corpulence.
Mrs. Insoley.
You have nothing against Helen, I presume?
Archibald.
[Smiling.] I could have wished that fewer summers had passed over a fringe which I shrewdly suspect to be artificial.