WENTWORTH (smiling). Oh, pretty well.

GERALD (looking at her lovingly and then turning to WENTWORTH).
It's having a very bad effect on her, this morning seclusion. She's
supposed to be resting, but she spends her time trying to think of
nasty things to say about me. The trouble with a mind like Aunt
Tabitha's is that it can't think of anything _really_ nasty.

MISS FARRINGDON. The trouble with Gerald, Mr. Wentworth, is that he
goes about expecting everybody to love him. The result is that they
nearly all do. However, he can't get round _me_.

GERALD. It isn't true, Wentworth; she adores me.

MISS FARRINGDON. He wouldn't be happy if he didn't think so.

WENTWORTH (gracefully). I can sympathize with him there.

GERALD. The slight coolness which you perceive to have arisen
between my Aunt Tabitha and myself is due to the fact that I
discovered her guilty secret a few days ago. For years she has
pretended that her real name was Harriet. I have recently found out
that she was christened Tabitha--or, anyhow, would have been, if
the clergyman had known his job.

MISS FARRINGDON. My great-nephew, Gerald, Mr. Wentworth--

GERALD. _Nephew_, Wentworth. I agreed to waive the "great" a long
time ago.