Mrs. Fergusson.
What does all this mean?
Dickie.
It means that Mrs. Mack, like the rest of us, is mortal. The funeral takes place the day after to-morrow at Kensal Green. Friends kindly accept this the only intimation.
Mrs. Fergusson.
How can Mrs. Mack be dead? You know just as well as I do that she never existed.
Dickie.
Upon my word, I’m beginning to be not quite certain. I’ve talked about her so much that she seems much more real than—than my bank balance, for instance. And I could write a beautiful article for the Lancet on the case.
Mrs. Fergusson.
[Furiously.] Oh!