MRS. CULVER (_loosing him_). Oh! You're always making the war an excuse.
I know what I shall do. I shall just go--

CULVER. Yes, darling, just go and suggest a short armistice to the
Germans while you take me to Brighton for a week's fondling.

MRS. CULVER. I shall just speak to Miss Starkey. Strange that the wife,
in order to influence the husband, should have to appeal to
(_disdainfully_) the lady secretary! But so it is.

CULVER. Hermione, I must beg you not to interfere between Miss Starkey
and me. Interference will upset Miss Starkey, and I cannot stand her
being upset. I depend upon her absolutely. First, Miss Starkey is the
rock upon which my official existence is built. She is a serious and
conscientious rock. She is hard and expects me to be hard. Secondly,
Miss Starkey is the cushion between me and the world. She knows my
tender spots, and protects them. Thirdly, Miss Starkey is my rod--and I
kiss it.

MRS. CULVER. Arthur!... (_tries to be agreeable_). But I really am
vexed.

CULVER. Well, I'm only hungry.

_Enter_ Parlourmaid.

PARLOURMAID. Cook's compliments, madam, and dinner will be twenty
minutes late. (_Exit_.)