MITCHENER. But Sandstones clothes wont fit me.

MRS. FARRELL (unmoved). Then youll have to fit THEM. Why shouldnt
they fitcha as well as they fitted General Blake at the Mansion
House?

MITCHENER. They didnt fit him. He looked a frightful guy.

MRS. FARRELL. Well, you must do the best you can with them. You
cant exhibit your clothes and wear them too.

MITCHENER. And the public thinks the lot of a commanding officer
a happy one! Oh, if they could only see the seamy side of it. (He
returns to his table to resume work.)

MRS. FARRELL. If they could only see the seamy side of General
Sandstones uniform, where his flask rubs agen the buckle of his
braces, theyll tell him he ought to get a new one. Let alone the
way he swears at me.

MITCHENER. When a man has risked his life on eight battlefields,
Mrs. Farrell, he has given sufficient proof of his self-control
to be excused a little strong language.

MRS. FARRELL. Would you put up with bad language from me because
Ive risked my life eight times in childbed?

MITCHENER. My dear Mrs. Farrell, you surely would not compare a
risk of that harmless domestic kind to the fearful risks of the
battlefield?