Lukyn.
Pooh! You’ll outlive me! Why don’t they bring the supper? My heart has been broken like yours. It was broken first in Ireland in ’55. It was broken again in London in ’61, but in 1870 it was smashed in Calcutta, by a married lady that time.
Vale.
A married lady?
Lukyn.
Yes, my late wife. Talk about broken hearts, my boy, when you’ve won your lady, not when you’ve lost her. [Enter Isidore with a tray of supper things.] The supper. [To Vale.] Hungry?
Vale.
[Mournfully.] Very.
Enter Blond, with an envelope.
Blond.