Roope.
Er—pardon me, Phil——
Philip.
Eh?
Roope.
[Fingering the lapel of Philip's coat.] I say, old man, you wouldn't be guilty of the deplorably bad taste of putting me into it, would you?
Philip.
[Slapping him on the back.] Ha, ha! My dear Robbie, half the polite world is in it. Don't tell me you wish to be left out in the cold!
Roope.
[Thoroughly alarmed.] Dear excellent friend——!