With great disgust. Br’ish working-man!
Roper.
By Jove, yes! When I think o’ the work Mr. Lionel Hesketh Roper manages to dispose of in the course of a day——!
Von Rettenmayer and de Castro have placed their overcoats and hats upon the chair at the back of the piano and Farncombe, Bland, and Roper have piled theirs on the arm-chair on the left. Enid and Gabrielle throw their wraps upon the settee, Daphne drops hers upon the box-ottoman, and Jimmie puts hers over the arm of the chair by the centre table.
Lily.
To everybody. I’ll just run upstairs and tell mother that all’s serene. She goes to the door on the left; Farncombe, Bland, and Roper get in each other’s way in their desire to open it for her. If any of you want a drink, you must hunt for it yourselves in the dining-room. To Roper. You play host, Uncle Lal.
She disappears, turning to the left and ascending the stairs.
Roper.
Briskly. Now, then, give your orders, gents! Coming forward. Ladies, don’t all speak at once.
Fulkerson.