Captain G. (aside.)—It may turn her attention.
Gives a long and designedly loathsome account of glanders and farcy
Mrs. G.—Oh, that's enough. Don't go on!
Captain G.—But you wanted to know. . . . Then these things suppurate and matterate and spread
Mrs. G.—Pip, you're making me sick! You're a horrid, disgusting school-boy.
Captain G. (on his knees among the bridles).—You asked to be told. It's not my fault if you worry me into talking about horrors.
Mrs. G.—Why didn't you say no?
Captain G.—Good Heavens, child! Have you come in here simply to bully me?
Mrs. G.—I bully you? How could I! You're so strong. (Hysterically.) Strong enough to pick me up and put me outside the door, and leave me there to cry. Aren't you?
Captain G.—It seems to me that you're an irrational little baby. Are you quite well?
Mrs. G.—Do I look ill? (Returning to table.) Who is your lady friend with the big gray envelope and the fat monogram outside?
Captain G. (aside).—Then it wasn't in the drawers, confound it. (Aloud.) "God made her, therefore let her pass for a woman." You remember what farcy-buds are like?
Mrs. G. (showing envelope).—This has nothing to do with them. I'm going to open it. May I?
Captain G.—Certainly, if you want to. I'd sooner you didn't though. I don't ask to look at your letters to the Deercourt girl.
Mrs. G.—You'd better not, Sir! (Takes letter from envelope.) Now may I look? If you say no, I shall cry.
Captain G.—You've never cried in my knowledge of you, and I don't believe you could.
Mrs. G.—I feel very like it to-day, Pip. Don't be hard on me. (Reads letter.) It begins in the middle, without any "Dear Captain Gadsby" or anything. How funny!
