No, thanks, old fellow.
QUECKETT.
Well, I—[Throwing down his knife and spoon, and leaning back in his chair. To Tyler.] Take it away! [Tyler removes the pudding; they all watch its going.]
TYLER.
[Handing it to Jane.] Keep it warm, Jane.
JACK.
A lobster salad and a small pâté de foie gras are at your end of the table.
MALLORY.
[Looking round.'] May I? [There is a general reply of "No, thank you," expressed in symbols by the ladies.]