Lily.
Not in the least; in a frigid tone only I am in the habit of relying on old friends for those little services.
Stidulph enters from the landing and again wanders to the counter and to the cigarettes. The “Mind the Paint” air, to the time of a Two Step, is played in the distance.
Farncombe.
Bowing to Lily slightly and drawing himself up. Shall I—take you to Mr. Cooling?
Lily.
With dignity, inclining her head. Will you? She is putting her hand through his arm when the look upon his face softens her. She drops her voice to a whisper. Have I hurt you?
Farncombe.
Oh, I deserve the rebuke.
Lily.