Jack. Well.
Walter. Why the devil don’t you speak?
Jack. Knows there’s a devil! I really don’t quite know what to do with you till your creator returns.
Walter. What?—How?
Jack. What or how—same thing. This is a pretty pickle, Mr. Cyril Davidson.
Walter. Mr. What?
Jack. Of course you don’ know your name yet; that is what you were christened, Cyril Davidson, so I call you Cyril Davidson.
Walter. Oh, you do, do you? that’s very clever of you. My mind’s a blank, I can’t remember what happened before I woke up on that chair.
Jack. No one remembers what happened before they were born.
Walter (bangs a book down on table). Oh, damned nonsense!