We're not meaning to stay.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'You are very welcome. Just wait'--the ostentation of
this!--'till I get out of my astrakhan--and my muff--and my gloves--and'
(it is the bonnet's turn now) 'my Excelsior.'
At last we see her in the merino (a triumph).
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'You've given her a glory time, Mr. Dowey.'
DOWEY. 'It's her that has given it to me, missis.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'Hey! hey! hey! hey! He just pampers me,' waggling her
fists. 'The Lord forgive us, but this being the last night, we had a
sit-down supper at a restaurant!' Vehemently: 'I swear by God that we
had champagny wine.' There is a dead stillness, and she knows very well
what it means, she has even prepared for it: 'And to them as doubts my
word--here's the cork.'
She places the cork, in its lovely gold drapery, upon the table.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I'm sure!'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'I would thank you, Mrs. Dowey, not to say a word against
my Alfred.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'Me!'
DOWEY. 'Come, come, ladies,' in the masterful way that is so hard for
women to resist; 'if you say another word, I'll kiss the lot of you.
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