Smythe.
A silk hat on the back of his head, an overcoat on his arm—regarding the preparations with disgust. Puh! Here’s a muck and a muddle!
Cooling.
Don’t worry; we’ll clear it away in no time. Shall I tell you who are coming?
Smythe.
No; I shall know soon enough. What was the house to-night?
Cooling.
Producing a long slip of paper and handing it to Smythe. Big. Smythe scans the paper through half-closed lids and gives a growl of contentment. Haw! And the weather dead against us.
Smythe.
Screwing up the paper, and cramming it into his waistcoat-pocket. There’s no bad weather for a good play. Looking at his hands. I’ll go and have a wash and brush up. Luigi returns, entering at the door on the left, and goes behind the counter. The waiters follow him, carrying some melons lying upon ice in plated dishes. They deposit the dishes upon the counter and Luigi proceeds to cut the melon into slices. Cooling resumes, at a table on the left, the placing of the cards. As Smythe is moving towards the right-hand door at the back, Stewart Heneage and Gerald Grimwood—two exquisitely dressed youths with blank faces—enter from the landing. Smythe shakes hands with them. Ha, Mr. Heneage! Ha, Mr. Grimwood! Heneage and Grimwood murmur some polite expressions. Excuse me; I’m just going to wash my hands. De Castro enters, also at the double-door, and Smythe shakes hands with him. Heneage and Grimwood drift over to Cooling, who hails them warmly. How do, Sam! Back in a moment; just going to wash my hands.