DOCTOR: You asked to see me in my mourning suit, so I thought I'd oblige you.

EVELYN: I still can't see why you had to show it off to me at a funeral. DOCTOR: Well, where else does one wear a mourning suit, but at a place of mourning? Blue, you see, colour of mourning, on a number of civilised worlds, notably not yours.

EVELYN: (laughing:) Oh Doctor, bless you for being a dear, but I thought when you said you had a mourning suit, you meant morning suit, as in, something Edwardian, worn in the morning.

DOCTOR: Oh, good grief, Evelyn. I haven't worn anything that formal for years. I thought you wanted to see my mourning suit because you wanted to go to that chap's funeral.

EVELYN: What chap?

DOCTOR: Well, the chap whose funeral we've just been to, got wet at, drunk insipid weak tea after we made pleasant small talk with his grieving relatives—that chap.

EVELYN: But I thought he was your friend.

DOCTOR: What?

EVELYN: I didn't know him from Adam. How could I? I've never been to the Andromedan Galaxy before.

DOCTOR: But if he wasn't your friend and I've never heard of him, why did we go?

EVELYN: You took us.

DOCTOR: But you said...Oh, never mind. I'm going to change back into my favourite coat, the gaucherie one.