Oh, how
can you perform deeds of derring-do in a stupid little suit like that!
BOBBY (looking at it). What's the matter with it? It's what every
other fellow wears.
MELISANDE (contemptuously). What every other fellow wears! And you
think what every other fellow thinks, and talk what every other fellow
talks, and eat what every other--I suppose _you_ didn't like the
bread-sauce this evening?
BOBBY (guardedly). Well, not as bread-sauce.
MELISANDE (nodding her head). I thought so, I thought so.
BOBBY (struck by an idea). I say, you didn't make it, did you?
MELISANDE. Do I look as if I made it?
BOBBY. I thought perhaps--You know, I really don't know what you _do_
want, Sandy. Sorry; I mean--
MELISANDE. Go on calling me Sandy, I'd rather you did.
BOBBY. Well, when you marry this prince of yours, is _he_ going to do
the cooking? I don't understand you, Sandy, really I don't.
MELISANDE (shaking her head gently at him). No, I'm sure you don't,
Bobby.
BOBBY (still trying, however). I suppose it's because he's doing the
cooking that he won't be able to dress for dinner. He sounds a funny
sort of chap; I should like to see him.
MELISANDE. You wouldn't understand him if you did see him.
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