CAPT. G. I am dumb, or--I shall be as soon as you've given me that dance, and another--if you can trouble yourself to think about me for a minute. MISS T. But you won't like it one little bit. You'll be awfully sorry afterwards. CAPT. G. I shall like it above all things, and I shall only be sorry that I didn't get more. (_Aside_.) Now what in the world am I saying? MISS T. Very well. You will have only yourself to thank if your toes are trodden on. Shall we say Seven? CAPT. G. And Eleven. (_Aside_.) She can't be more than eight stone, but, even then, it's an absurdly small foot. (_Looks at his own riding boots_.) MISS T. They're beautifully shiny. I can almost see my face in them. CAPT. G. I was thinking whether I should have to go on crutches for the rest of my life if you trod on my toes. MISS T. Very likely. Why not change Eleven for a square? CAPT. G. No, _please!_ I want them both waltzes. Won't you write them down? MISS T. _I_ don't get so many dances that I shall confuse them. _You_ will be the offender. CAPT. G. Wait and see! (_Aside_.) She doesn't dance perfectly, perhaps, but-- MISS T. Your tea must have got cold by this time. Won't you have another cup? CAPT. G. No, thanks. Don't you think it's pleasanter out in the veranda? (_Aside_.) I never saw hair take that colour in the sunshine before. (_Aloud_.) It's like one of Dicksee's pictures. MISS T. Yes! It's a wonderful sunset, isn't it? (_Bluntly_.) But what do _you_ know about Dicksee's pictures? CAPT. G. I go Home occasionally. And I used to know the Galleries. (_Nervously_.) You mustn't think me only a Philistine with--a moustache. MISS T. Don't! _Please_ don't! I'm _so_ sorry for what I said then. I was _horribly_ rude. It slipped out before I thought. Don't you know the temptation to say frightful and shocking things just for the mere sake of saying them? I'm afraid I gave way to it. CAPT. G. (_Watching the girl as she flushes_.) I _think_ I know the feeling. It would be terrible if we all yielded to it, wouldn't it? For instance, I might say-- POOR DEAR MAMMA. (_Entering, habited, hatted, and booted_.) Ah, Captain Gadsby! 'Sorry to keep you waiting. 'Hope you haven't been bored. 'My little girl been talking to you? MISS T. (_Aside_.) I'm not sorry I spoke about the rheumatism. I'm not! I'm NOT! I only wish I'd mentioned the corns too. CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) What a shame! I wonder how old she is. It never occurred to me before. (_Aloud_.) We've been discussing 'Shakespeare and the musical glasses' in the veranda. MISS T. (_Aside._) Nice man! He knows that quotation. He _isn't_ a Philistine with a moustache. (_Aloud._) Good-bye, Captain Gadsby. (_Aside._) What a huge hand and _what_ a squeeze! I don't suppose he meant it, but he has driven the rings into my fingers. POOR DEAR MAMMA. Has Vermillion come round yet? Oh, yes! Captain Gadsby, don't you think that the saddle is too far forward? (_They pass into the front veranda._)