Part 158 (2/2)

Mrs. G. Why will you always treat me like a child? I know I'm not displacing the horrid things.

Capt. G. (Resignedly.) Very well, then. Don't blame me if anything happens. Play with the table and let me go on with the saddlery.

(Slipping hand into trousers-pocket.) Oh, the deuce!

Mrs. G. (Her back to G.) What's that for?

Capt. G. Nothing. (Aside.) There's not much in it, but I wish I'd torn it up.

Mrs. G. (Turning over contents of table.) I know you'll hate me for this; but I do want to see what your work is like. (A pause.) Pip, what are ”farcybuds”?

Capt. G. Hah! Would you really like to know? They aren't pretty things.

Mrs. G. This Journal of Veterinary Science says they are of ”absorbing interest.” Tell me.

Capt. 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!

Capt. G. But you wanted to know--Then these things suppurate and matterate and spread--

Mrs. G. Pin, you're making me sick! You're a horrid, disgusting schoolboy.

Capt. 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?

Capt. 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?

Capt. 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 grey envelope and the fat monogram outside?

Capt. G. (Aside.) Then it wasn't locked up, confound it. (Aloud.) ”G.o.d made her, therefore let her pa.s.s for a woman.” You remember what farcybuds are like?

Mrs. G. (Showing envelope.) This has nothing to do with them. I'm going to open it. May I?

Capt. 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.

Capt. G. You've never cried in my knowledge of you, and I don't believe you could.

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