human
She's a perfect old dear, Mum, the girl declared.
gpt
Very large, not exactly fat, you know, but big. Very little hair, brushed quite flat, and done up in a tiny bun at the back, and the most beautiful manners, like some old-fashioned duchess. Like an old duchess in one of your books, Mum--that kind--not like a _live_ one----
human
I see, murmured Mrs. Walbridge.
gpt
How did you like the play?
human
Oh, it was very pretty. Mary Grey looked perfectly beautiful. She's such a dear, but I wish she had sung. _They_ liked it awfully, but somehow I never understand Shakespeare's plays--never quite know what they are driving at, I mean. The place was packed, and I saw lots of people I know. The Murchisons were there, and Dickie Scotts, and that awful Pellaby woman, _covered_ with pearls and jewels. Johnny Holden came up just as we were leaving, and told me that he had seen Guy. He's only just back. He said Guy's awfully fit, and has done some very good caricatures. He says there's going to be an armistice as sure as eggs is eggs. The Hun is a dead man according to him. And, oh, Mother, you'll never guess--Oliver Wick went out on the 28th of August, 1914, and was all through the Big Push and the retreat from Mons. Fancy his never telling us! Johnny mentioned it. He was wounded there--during the retreat. One of his fingers is quite stiff. I never noticed it, did you?
gpt
No, I never did. So he's been out?
human
Yes, and he only had one leave all the time. He was invalided out last year--there's a bullet somewhere inside him still. His mother says she thinks it must be in his brain. She _does_ adore him, Mum.