Bastling.
[Puzzled.] Not much in thanks?
Sophy.
[Turning away, pouting.] I think not.
Bastling.
[Smiling.] Oh, I know I owe a tremendous deal to the pretty manicurist, and I don't intend to forget it. Just now I'm rather hard-up, [glancing towards the window] but I shall be in funds before long—
Sophy.
[Turning to him with genuine indignation.] Oh!
Bastling.
What do you want, then?