(gentle music) - What do we think?
(gentle music) - She's the bishop's daughter.
- God forbid she sees my clavicle.
- This could be the future Mrs. Kottaram.
- Whoa, whoa.
Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
- One error could ruin your entire future.
- Oh, well that's put me at ease.
Thank you.
(gentle music) - You want me to go, don't you?
- Very much so, yes.
(door knocks) - Oh.
- I'll get it.
(gentle music) - Miss Grey.
- Mrs. Chapman.
- She's just leaving.
- Aren't you looking smashing?
Doesn't she look smashing?
- Love to Jack, Mrs. C. - He's been a bag of nerves all day.
Bless him.
All a fluster.
- Not, not really.
- Liar.
Do you like sloe gin?
- I can't say I've ever tried it.
- I'll get out my special batch.
Usually only comes out at funerals.
- Oh, that funeral can be arranged.
Hmm.
- Have fun.
Not too much fun.
(door slams) - You do, by the way.
- Do what?
- Look smashing.
- Thank you.
Likewise.
