Comtesse.  How is Mrs. Venables?

Venables.  She is rather poorly.  I think it’s gout.

Comtesse.  And you?

Venables.  I creak a little in the mornings.

Comtesse.  So do I. There is such a good man at Wiesbaden.

Venables.  The Homburg fellow is better.  The way he patched me up last summer—­Oh, Lord, Lord!

Comtesse.  Yes, Charles, the game is up; we are two old fogies. [They groan in unison; then she raps him sharply on the knuckles.] Tell me, sir, what are you doing here?

Venables.  Merely a friendly call.

Comtesse.  I do not believe it.

Venables.  The same woman; the old delightful candour.

Comtesse.  The same man; the old fibs. [She sees that the door is asking a question.] Yes, come, Mrs. Shand, I have had quite enough of him; I warn you he is here for some crafty purpose.

Maggie [drawing back timidly].  Surely not?

Venables.  Really, Comtesse, you make conversation difficult.  To show that my intentions are innocent, Mrs. Shand, I propose that you choose the subject.

Maggie [relieved].  There, Comtesse.

Venables.  I hope your husband is well?

Maggie.  Yes, thank you. [With a happy thought] I decide that we talk about him.

Venables.  If you wish it.

Comtesse.  Be careful; he has chosen the subject.

Maggie. I chose it, didn’t I?

Venables.  You know you did.

Maggie [appealingly].  You admire John?

Venables.  Very much.  But he puzzles me a little.  You Scots, Mrs. Shand, are such a mixture of the practical and the emotional that you escape out of an Englishman’s hand like a trout.

Maggie [open-eyed].  Do we?

Venables.  Well, not you, but your husband.  I have known few men make a worse beginning in the House.  He had the most atrocious bow-wow public-park manner—–­

Comtesse.  I remember that manner!

Maggie.  No, he hadn’t.

Venables [soothingly].  At first.  But by his second session he had shed all that, and he is now a pleasure to listen to.  By the way, Comtesse, have you found any dark intention in that?

Comtesse.  You wanted to know whether he talks over these matter with his wife; and she has told you that he does not.

Maggie [indignantly].  I haven’t said a word about it, have I?

Venables.  Not a word.  Then, again, I admire him for his impromptu speeches.

Maggie.  What is impromptu?

Venables.  Unprepared.  They have contained some grave blunders not so much of judgment as of taste—–­

Maggie [hotly]. I don’t think so.