She. (dreamily). At Shaifazehat? Does the Station go on still? That
was ages and ages ago. It must be crumbling to pieces. All except
the Amirtollah kutcha road. I don't believe that could crumble till
the Day of Judgment.

He. You think so? What is the mood now?

She. I can't tell. How cold it is! Let us get on quickly.

He. 'Better walk a little. Stop your jhampanies and get out. What's
the matter with you this evening, dear?

She. Nothing. You must grow accustomed to my ways. If I'm
boring you I can go home. Here's Captain Congleton coming, I
daresay he'll be willing to escort me.

He. Goose! Between us, too! Damn Captain Congleton.

She. Chivalrous Knight. Is it your habit to swear much in talking?
It jars a little, and you might swear at me.

He. My angel! I didn't know what I was saying; and you changed
so quickly that I couldn't follow. I'll apologise in dust and ashes.

She. There'll be enough of those later on Good-night, Captain
Congleton. Going to the singing - quadrilles already? What dances
am I giving you next week? No! You must have written them down
wrong. Five and Seven, I said. If you've made a mistake, I certainly
don't intend to suffer for it. You must alter your programme.