Captain G.—I beg your pardon. You were going to say—
Miss T. (who has been watching the moustache with awed fascination).—Won't you have some eggs?
Captain G. (looking bewilderedly at the tea-table).—Eggs!—(Aside.) Oh, Hades! She must have a nursery-tea at this hour. S'pose they've wiped her mouth and sent her to me while the Mother is getting on her duds.—(Aloud.) No, thanks.
Miss T. (crimson with confusion).—Oh! I didn't mean that. I wasn't thinking of mou—eggs for an instant. I mean salt. Won't you have some sa—sweets?—(Aside.) He'll think me a raving lunatic. I wish Mamma would come.
Captain G. (aside).—It was a nursery-tea and she's ashamed of it. By Jove! She doesn't look half bad when she colours up like that. (Aloud, helping himself from the dish.) Have you seen those new chocolates at Peliti's?
Miss T.—No, I made these myself. What are they like?
Captain G.—These! De-licious. (Aside.) And that's a fact.
Miss T. (aside).—Oh, bother! He'll think I'm fishing for compliments. (Aloud.) No, Peliti's of course.
Captain G. (enthusiastically).—Not to compare with these. How d'you make them? I can't get my man to understand the simplest thing beyond mutton and fowl.
Miss T.—Yes? I'm not a khansamah, you know. Perhaps you frighten him. You should never frighten a servant. He loses his head. It's very bad policy.
Captain G.—He's so awf'ly stupid.
Miss T. (folding her hands in her lap).—You should call him quietly and say: "O khansamah!"
Captain G. (getting interested).—Yes? (Aside.) Fancy that little featherweight saying, "O khansamah" to my bloodthirsty Mir Khan!
Miss T.—Then you should explain the dinner dish by dish.
Captain G.—But I can't speak the vernacular.
