Smythe.

What’s that?

De Castro.

Linking his arm in Smythe’s. You’re thure you won’t conthider me prethumptuouth?

Smythe.

Of course not; very kind of yer.

De Castro.

In Smythe’s ear. If you could give Gabth—Mith Kato—a tiny bit more to do in the thecond act——!

Smythe.

Nodding. Ah, yes, yes.