So, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Lammle had to prompt, and this is how they prompted.
“Georgiana,” said Mr. Lammle, low and smiling, and sparkling all over, like a harlequin; “you are not in your usual spirits. Why are you not in your usual spirits, Georgiana?”
Georgiana faltered that she was much the same as she was in general; she was not aware of being different.
“Not aware of being different!” retorted Mr. Alfred Lammle. “You, my dear Georgiana! Who are always so natural and unconstrained with us! Who are such a relief from the crowd that are all alike! Who are the embodiment of gentleness, simplicity, and reality!”
Miss Podsnap looked at the door, as if she entertained confused thoughts of taking refuge from these compliments in flight.
“Now, I will be judged,” said Mr. Lammle, raising his voice a little, “by my friend Fledgeby.”
“Oh don’t! ” Miss Podsnap faintly ejaculated: when Mrs. Lammle took the promptbook.
“I beg your pardon, Alfred, my dear, but I cannot part with Mr. Fledgeby quite yet; you must wait for him a moment. Mr. Fledgeby and I are engaged in a personal discussion.”
Fledgeby must have conducted it on his side with immense art, for no appearance of uttering one syllable had escaped him.
“A personal discussion, Sophronia, my love? What discussion? Fledgeby, I am jealous. What discussion, Fledgeby?”
“Shall I tell him, Mr. Fledgeby?” asked Mrs. Lammle.