GEORGE. Clare isn't that sort.

LADY DEDMOND. I know. But she catches up notions very easily. I
think it's a great pity you ever came across him.

SIR CHARLES. Where did you pick him up?

GEORGE. Italy--this Spring--some place or other where they couldn't
speak English.

SIR CHARLES. Um! That's the worst of travellin'.

LADY DEDMOND. I think you ought to have dropped him. These literary
people---[Quietly] From exchanging ideas to something else, isn't
very far, George.

SIR CHARLES. We'll make him play Bridge. Do him good, if he's that
sort of fellow.

LADY DEDMOND. Is anyone else coming?

GEORGE. Reggie Huntingdon, and the Fullartons.

LADY DEDMOND. [Softly] You know, my dear boy, I've been meaning to
speak to you for a long time. It is such a pity you and Clare--What
is it?

GEORGE. God knows! I try, and I believe she does.