Squared me.

LUCAS. [With an uneasy laugh.] You're the red rag, Duke. This spirit of
revolt in her--it's ludicrously extravagant; but it will die out in
time, when she has become used to being happy and cared for--[partly
to himself, with clenched hands]--yes, cared for.

ST. OLPHERTS. Die out? Bred in the bone, dear Lucas.

LUCAS. On some topics she's a mere echo of her father, if you mean
that?

ST. OLPHERTS. The father--one of those public park vermin, eh?

LUCAS. Dead years ago.

ST. OLPHERTS. I once heard her bellowing in a dirty little shed in St.
Luke's. I told you?

LUCAS. Yes, you've told me.

ST. OLPHERTS. I sat there again, it seemed, this afternoon. The orator
not quite so lean, perhaps--a little less witch-like; but--

LUCAS. She was actually in want of food in those days! Poor girl!
[Partly to himself.] I mean to remind myself of that constantly. Poor
girl!

ST. OLPHERTS. Girl! Let me see--you're considerably her junior?

LUCAS. No, no; a few months, perhaps.

ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, come!

LUCAS. Well, years--two or three.

ST. OLPHERTS. The voice remains rather raucous.

LUCAS. By God, the voice is sweet!

ST. OLPHERTS. Well--considering the wear and tear. Really, my dear
fellow, I do believe this--I do believe that if you gowned her
respectably--

LUCAS. [Impulsively.] Yes, yes, I say so. I tell her that.

ST. OLPHERTS. [With a smile.] Do you? That's odd, now.

LUCAS. What a topic. Poor Agnes's dress!

ST. OLPHERTS. Your taste used to be rather aesthetic. Even your own
wife is one of the smartest women in London.

LUCAS. Ha, well I must contrive to smother these aesthetic tastes of
mine.

ST. OLPHERTS. It's a pity that other people will retain their sense of
the incongruous.

LUCAS. [Snapping his fingers.] Other people!--

ST. OLPHERTS. The public.

LUCAS. The public?

ST. OLPHERTS. Come, you know well enough that unostentatious
immodesty is no part of your partner's programme. Of course, you
will find yourself by-and-bye in a sort of perpetual parade with
your crack-brained visionary--

LUCAS. You shall not speak of her so! You shall not.

ST. OLPHERTS. [Unconcernedly.] Each of you bearing a pole of the soiled
banner of Free Union. Free Union for the People! Ho, my dear Lucas!

LUCAS. Good heavens, Duke, do you imagine, now that I am in sound
health and mind again, that I don't see the hideous absurdity of these
views of hers?

ST. OLPHERTS. Then why the deuce don't