_Culch._ Possibly--but _I_ haven't. As I've already told you--I retire.
_Podb._ Wobbled back to Miss TROTTER again, eh? Matter of taste, of course,
but, for my part, I think your _first_ impression of her was nearer the
truth--she's not what I call a highly cultivated sort of girl, y' know.
_Culch._ You are naturally exacting on that point, but have the goodness to
leave my first impressions alone, and--er--frankly, PODBURY, I see no
necessity (_now_, at all events) to take that ridiculous--hum--penance
_too_ literally. We are _travelling_ together, and I imagine that is enough
for Miss PRENDERGAST.
_Podb._ It's enough for _me_--especially when you make yourself so doosid
amiable as this. You needn't alarm yourself--you won't have any more of my
company than I can help; only I _must_ say, for two fellows who came out to
do a tour _together_, it's-- [_Walks away, grumbling._
_Later. The band has finished playing;_ Miss TROTTER _is on the bench with_
CULCHARD.
_Miss T._ And you mean to tell me you've never met anybody since you even
cared to converse with?
_Culch._ (_diplomatically_). Does that strike you as so very incredible?
_Miss T._ Well, it strikes me as just a _little_ too thin.
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