[Frightened.] What d’you mean, George?
George Winter.
[Good-humouredly.] My dear, I’m going to bring a counter petition, that’s all. You want to wash your dirty linen in public, let’s have an entire spring cleaning.
Catherine.
[Scornfully.] Oh, my dear George, if you only knew how indifferent I am to such a threat! We haven’t done anything with which we can reproach ourselves.
George Winter.
[Banteringly.] You astonish me, my dear Kate. Surely it can’t have slipped your memory that Robert Colby, snatching a brief and well-earned holiday from affairs of state, made a tour of North Italy last Easter, and you accompanied him.
Catherine.
[Flaring up.] That’s not true. You know it’s not true. I went with Barbara Herbert....
George Winter.