_Follows a pause, during which he crosses his left leg over his right and continues his dinner_. CAPT. G. (_In answer to the thunderstorm in her eyes_.) Corns--my worst. MRS. H. Upon my word, you are the very rudest man in the world! I'll _never_ do it again. CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) No, I don't think you will; but I wonder what you will do before it's all over. (_To Khitmatgar_.) _Thorah ur Simpkin do_. MRS. H. Well! Haven't you the grace to apologise, bad man? CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) I mustn't let it drift back _now_. Trust a woman for being as blind as a bat when she won't see. MRS. H. I'm waiting: or would you like me to dictate a form of apology? CAPT. G. (_Desperately_.) By all means dictate. MRS. H. (_Lightly_.) Very well. Rehearse your several Christian names after me and go on: 'Profess my sincere repentance.' CAPT. G. 'Sincere repentance.' MRS. H. 'For having behaved--' CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) At last! I wish to Goodness she'd look away. 'For having behaved'--as I have behaved, and declare that I am thoroughly and heartily sick of the whole business, and take this opportunity of making clear my intention of ending it, now, henceforward, and for ever. (_Aside_.) If any one had told me I should be such a blackguard--! MRS. H. (_Shaking a spoonful of potato chips into her plate_.) That's not a pretty joke. CAPT. G. No. It's a reality. (_Aside_.) I wonder if smashes of this kind are always so raw. MRS. H. Really, Pip, you're getting more absurd every day. CAPT. G. I don't think you quite understand me. Shall I repeat it? MRS. H. No! For pity's sake don't do that. It's too terrible, even in fun. CAPT. G. I'll let her think it over for a while. But I ought to be horse-whipped. MRS. H. I want to know what you meant by what you said just now. CAPT. G. Exactly what I said. No less. MRS. H. But what have I done to deserve it? What _have_ I done? CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) If she only wouldn't look at me. (_Aloud and very slowly, his eyes on his plate_.) D'you remember that evening in July, before the Rains broke, when you said that the end would have to come sooner or later--and you wondered for which of us it would come first? MRS. H. Yes! I was only joking. And you swore that, as long as there was breath in your body, it should _never_ come. And I believed you. CAPT. G. (_Fingering menu-card_) Well, it has. That's all. _A long pause, during which MRS. H. bows her head and rolls the bread-twist into little pellets:_ G. _stares at the oleanders_. MRS. H. (_Throwing back her head and laughing naturally_.) They train us women well, don't they, Pip? CAPT. G. (_Brutally, touching shirt-stud_.) So far as the expression goes. (_Aside_.) It isn't in her nature to take things quietly. There'll be an explosion yet. MRS. H. (_With a shudder_.) Thank you. B-but even Red Indians allow people to wriggle when they're being tortured, I believe. (_Slips fan from girdle and fans slowly: rim of fan level with chin_.)