You were going to improve our minds, I think.
VALENTINE. The fact is, your---
PHILIP (anticipating him). Our appearance?
DOLLY. Our manners?
VALENTINE (ad misericordiam). Oh, do let me speak.
DOLLY. The old story. We talk too much.
PHILIP. We do. Shut up, both. (He seats himself on the arm of the
opposing chair.)
DOLLY. Mum! (She sits down in the writing-table chair, and closes
her lips tight with the tips of her fingers.)
VALENTINE. Thank you. (He brings the stool from the bench in the
corner; places it between them; and sits down with a judicial air. They
attend to him with extreme gravity. He addresses himself first to
Dolly.) Now may I ask, to begin with, have you ever been in an English
seaside resort before? (She shakes her head slowly and solemnly. He
turns to Phil, who shakes his head quickly and expressively.) I thought
so. Well, Mr. Clandon, our acquaintance has been short; but it has been
voluble; and I have gathered enough to convince me that you are neither
of you capable of conceiving what life in an English seaside resort is.
Believe me, it's not a question of manners and appearance. In those
respects we enjoy a freedom unknown in Madeira. (Dolly shakes her head
vehemently.) Oh, yes, I assure you. Lord de Cresci's sister bicycles
in knickerbockers; and the rector's wife advocates dress reform and
wears hygienic boots.
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