PROSERPINE. English Land Restoration League.

MORELL. What next?

PROSERPINE. Guild of St. Matthew on Monday. Independent Labor
Party, Greenwich Branch, on Thursday. Monday, Social-Democratic
Federation, Mile End Branch. Thursday, first Confirmation class--
(Impatiently). Oh, I'd better tell them you can't come. They're
only half a dozen ignorant and conceited costermongers without
five shillings between them.

MORELL (amused). Ah; but you see they're near relatives of mine,
Miss Garnett.

PROSERPINE (staring at him). Relatives of YOURS!

MORELL. Yes: we have the same father--in Heaven.

PROSERPINE (relieved). Oh, is that all?

MORELL (with a sadness which is a luxury to a man whose voice
expresses it so finely). Ah, you don't believe it. Everybody says
it: nobody believes it--nobody. (Briskly, getting back to
business.) Well, well! Come, Miss Proserpine, can't you find a
date for the costers? What about the 25th?: that was vacant the
day before yesterday.

PROSERPINE (referring to diary). Engaged--the Fabian Society.

MORELL. Bother the Fabian Society! Is the 28th gone too?