As if on cue, Monsieur Prosper lets out his grandest snore yet, chokes, sputters, and wakes up, thankfully saving the flustered Miss Spenlow from having to respond.


"And always, of course, it is tea," he proclaims into the air, apparently continuing a rant that had been interrupted by his doze. "Always. Is it any wonder the girls they are incapable of poise, when it is always the stimulants we are pouring into them?"

"There's your answer, Miss Spenlow," murmurs Mr. Fortinbras. "Someone's been pouring strong tea into the brute's feeding dish."