Running her eye over him. You in the Guards, by any chance?
Farncombe.
Nodding. Yes.
Lily.
Smiling. Ah, you’ll never do a braver deed than seeing our show twenty-three times.
Jimmie.
As Roper leaves her to go to the table, her mouth full of cake. Boys! Choking. Heugh, heugh, heugh! Wait a minute; I’ve swallowed some of the Baron’s German. Gulping. B-oys, seriously—no rot— raising her tea-cup jolly good health to Lily! There is a cry of approbation from Bland, Von Rettenmayer, de Castro and Roper. Farncombe fetches himself a cup of tea from the tea-table. She’s a white woman, Lily is—the staunchest, truest pal, where she takes a liking——
Bland, Von Rettenmayer, de Castro, and Roper.
Hear, hear!
Mrs. Upjohn.