Barbara: I suppose as far as you're concerned, Tom and I must be a blot on the avenue's escutcheon.Margo: Yes, you are.Barbara: Oh.Margo: But you are very dear friends. And by now I have risen like a phoenix from the fires of your eccentricities.Tom Good: Oh, don't she talk lovely?Barbara: Yeah, very nice.Margo: You know what I mean. I mean, nothing you can do now will shock me. It's quite simple.Tom Good: Yes. I understand that. Oh, when's the boar-walker coming, Barbara?Barbara: Tomorrow.Tom Good: Oh, yes.Margo: Boar-walker? What's a boar-walker?Tom Good: This chap's bringing his boar to serve Pinky.Margo: With what? [Tom smiles] Oh, my God!Barbara: Margo, you're shocked!Margo: Where?Tom Good: Not in here, in the garden.Margo: But I should be able to see it over the fence.Barbara: Only if you're looking.Margo: Well, what about Mrs. Weaver?Tom Good: She can watch if she likes.Margo: This sort of thing simply does not go on in Surbiton.Tom Good: It must do, Margo. That is how little baby Surbitonites are made.Margo: Good morning.
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