Mrs. G.—Yes. But it was a pincushion Heaven with hymn-books in all the pews.
Captain G. (wagging his head with intense conviction).—Never mind. There is a real Heaven.
Mrs. G.—Where do you bring that message from, my prophet?
Captain G.—Here! Because we care for each other. So it's all right.
Mrs. G. (as a troop of grey monkeys crash through the branches).—So it's all right. But Darwin says that we came from those!
Captain G. (placidly).—Ah! Darwin was never in love with an angel. That settles it. Sstt, you brutes! Monkeys, indeed! You shouldn't read those books.
Mrs. G. (folding her hands).—If it pleaseth my Lord the King to issue proclamation
Captain G.—Don't, dear one. There are no orders between us. Only I'd rather you didn't. They lead to nothing and bother people's heads.
Mrs. G.—Like your first engagement?
Captain G. (with an immense calm).—That was a necessary evil and led to you. Are you nothing?
Mrs. G.—Not so very much, am I?
Captain G.—All this world and the next to me.
Mrs. G. (very softly).—My boy of boys! Shall I tell you something?
Captain G.—Yes, if it's not dreadful—about other men.
Mrs. G.—It's about my own, bad, little self.
Captain G.—Then it must be good. Go on, dear.
Mrs. G. (slowly).—I don't know why I'm telling you Pip; but if ever you marry again—(interlude). Take your hand from my mouth or I'll bite! In the future, then remember . . . I don't know quite how to put it!
Captain G. (snorting indignantly).—Don't try. "Marry again" indeed!
Mrs. G.—I must. Listen, my husband. Never, never,
