I thought Miss Sellenger would probably like to go on the river before tea. AUNT ELIZA. If she does, it’s more likely to be with Lord Hollington than with you. FREDDIE. Oh, that’s rot. Gerald’s an awfully good sort, but he’s not the sort of chap a girl’s desperately fond of. MRS. DOT. You think that, do you? FREDDIE. Well, you can’t see yourself falling in love with him can you? MRS. DOT. No. No. AUNT ELIZA. And what is the sort of man a girl’s desperately fond of? FREDDIE. Oh, I don’t know. [_Taking up a spoon and looking at himself, twisting an infinitesimal moustache._] I should think some one a bit younger than Gerald. MRS. DOT. [_With a little shriek._] You! FREDDIE. You needn’t be so surprised. One might do worse, you know. MRS. DOT. [_To_ AUNT ELIZA _pointing with a scornful finger at_ FREDDIE.] Do you think any one could possibly fall in love with that? AUNT ELIZA. Of course not. FREDDIE. I say, come now. That’s a bit thick. MRS. DOT. [_To_ BLENKINSOP.] If you were a young and lovely maiden would you fall in love with Freddie? BLENKINSOP. [_Looking at him doubtfully._] Well, if you ask me point blank I don’t think I should. FREDDIE. You’re all of you jolly supercilious. MRS. DOT. He’s not positively plain, is he? BLENKINSOP. Not positively. FREDDIE. Look here, you shut up. I bet I could cut you out with any girl you like to mention. BLENKINSOP. Rubbish! MRS. DOT. I daresay he can whisper nonsense in a woman’s ear as well as any one else. AUNT ELIZA. It’s born in them, the brutes. BLENKINSOP. Pooh! I wouldn’t waste my time on whispering nonsense. I’d just send my pass-book round by a messenger boy. FREDDIE. Well, I flatter myself Miss Sellenger will be much more pleased to see _me_ than to see anybody else down here. BLENKINSOP. You’ve only seen her once. FREDDIE. She’s a jolly nice girl, I can tell you that. BLENKINSOP. [_Ironically._] I suppose she squeezed your hand when you went away? FREDDIE. Well, it so happens, she did. BLENKINSOP. You needn’t be set up about it, because she squeezed mine, too. It’s evidently a habit. FREDDIE. Yours! What rot! [MRS. DOT _has been staring at him, with both elbows on the table. A servant is standing at her side with a tray on which is the coffee._ AUNT ELIZA. Thompson is offering you some coffee, my dear. MRS. DOT. [_Absently._] Take it away. FREDDIE. What on earth are you staring at? Isn’t my tie all right? MRS. DOT. You certainly are rather good-looking. I’ve never noticed it before. FREDDIE. It’s no good, you know. You’re my aunt, and the prayer book wouldn’t let you marry me. MRS. DOT. Now I come to think of it, I daresay you’re quite grown up to any one who didn’t know you in Etons. FREDDIE. I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about. MRS. DOT. I suppose a girl might quite easily fall in love with you. It had never occurred to me. BLENKINSOP.