Enid.
Rising and carefully picking a piece of fluff from her skirt. We’re losing this dance. Shall we have a turn?
He gets to his feet with some difficulty and then faces her.
Von Rettenmayer.
Breathing heavily. Enid——
Enid.
Guilelessly. Yes?
Von Rettenmayer.
Putting his heels together and bowing to her. If you would permid me to be your bangker during your sday at Ostend—four weegs——
Enid.