Quick? Yes, I dell zem. [_He hurries off._
_The E.A._ Hang the fellow, he's forgotten the wine! (_To_ Guest.)
What will you drink?
_The Guest_ (_thinks it will look greedy if he suggests champagne_).
Oh--er--whatever _you're_ going to drink.
_The E.A._ Well, I'm going to have a glass of champagne myself. I want
it after all this worry. But if you prefer beer (_considerately_), say
so. (_The_ Guest, _in a spirit of propitiation, prefers beer._) Well,
we could have managed a bottle of Pommery between us, and it's never
so good to my mind in the pints--but please yourself, of course.
[_The_ Guest _feels that his moderation has missed fire, but dares
not retract; they sit in silence for some time, without anything of
importance happening, except that a strange Waiter swoops down and
carries away their bread-basket._
_A Meek Man_ (_at an adjoining table, who, probably for family
reasons, is entertaining his Sister-in-law, a lady with an aquiline
nose and remarkably thick eyebrows._) You know, HORATIA, I call this
sort of thing very jolly, having dinner like this in the fresh air,
eh? [_He rubs his hands under the table.
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