Mrs Bridgenorth sent for
the greengrocer, not for the alderman. It's just as unpleasant to
get more than you bargain for as to get less.
THE GENERAL. I'm sure she will agree with me. I attach importance
to this as an affirmation of solidarity in the service of the
community. The Bishop's apron, my uniform, your robes: the
Church, the Army, and the Municipality.
COLLINS [retiring] Very well, General. [He turns dubiously to
Lesbia on his way to the tower]. I wonder what my wife will say,
Miss?
THE GENERAL. What! Is your, wife ashamed of your robes?
COLLINS. No, sir, not ashamed of them. But she grudged the money
for them; and she will be afraid of my sleeves getting into the
gravy.
Mrs Bridgenorth, her placidity quite upset, comes in with a
letter; hurries past Collins; and comes between Lesbia and the
General.
MRS BRIDGENORTH. Lesbia: Boxer: heres a pretty mess!
Collins goes out discreetly.
THE GENERAL. Whats the matter?
MRS BRIDGENORTH. Reginald's in London, and wants to come to the
wedding.
THE GENERAL [stupended] Well, dash my buttons!
LESBIA. Oh, all right, let him come.
THE GENERAL. Let him come! Why, the decree has not been made
absolute yet. Is he to walk in here to Edith's wedding, reeking
from the Divorce Court?
MRS BRIDGENORTH [vexedly sitting down in the middle chair] It's
too bad.
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