Freddie.
Oh, rot! I’m as fit as a fiddle.
Mrs. Dot.
Don’t you agree with me, James?
Blenkinsop.
Certainly. I think a change of air is distinctly indicated.
Freddie.
But I can’t go away when you’ve got people in the house. Besides, who’s to look after your correspondence?
Mrs. Dot.
My dear boy, your health is the chief thing. I should never forgive myself if you came to any harm while you were my secretary. I’ll write my letters myself.