"About Michael now.

He's been suppressed all his life, you know, and instead of being dwarfed he has just gone on growing inside.

Good Lord! I wish somebody would suppress me for a year or two.

What a lot there would be when I took the cork out again.

We dissipate too much, Sylvia, both you and I." She gave a little grunt, which, from his knowledge of her inarticulate expressions, he took to mean dissent.
"I suppose you mean we don't," he remarked.
"Yes.