Covington Cross1992

Sir Thomas Grey:
You remember Eleanor, my lord.

Duke of Worringer:
How much better you look in silk, my dear, then leather. And this skinny lump of dough is my son, Lord Uther.

Eleanor Grey:
A pleasure, my lord.

Sir Thomas Grey:
Well, answer her, boy. She's a beautiful young lady.

Lord Uther:
I hope the pleasure will be all mine after dinner, Lady Eleanor.

Duke of Worringer:
[sighs] I think perhaps I ought to throw this one back and catch something better. What do you say, Thomas?