Colonel Wharton.
Don’t talk nonsense to me, John. You all treat me like a child. No one must cross me. I must be petted and spoilt and amused and humoured. God damn it, you never let me forget it for a minute.
Mrs. Wharton.
Shall we go for a little turn in the garden? The sun is out now.
Colonel Wharton.
If you like. I shall stay here. I’m chilly.
Mrs. Wharton.
A stroll would do you good, George. The Vicar was asking how the new Buff Orpingtons were getting on.
Colonel Wharton.
[With a chuckle.] You’re very transparent, my poor Evelyn. When I want to have a chat with the Vicar I’ll let him know.