"INK AND FLOUR—COULDN'T POSSIBLY MISS HIM."
Pilliner. Beastly bad form, I call it—with a fellow you don't know. You'll get yourself into trouble some day. And you couldn't even bring your own ridiculous booby-trap off, for here the beggar comes, as if nothing had happened.
Archie (disconcerted). Confound him! The best booby trap I ever made!
The Bishop. My dear Lady Cantire, here is our youthful poet, at the eleventh hour. (To himself.) "Sic me servavit Apollo!"
[Miss Spelwane advances to meet Spurrell, who stands surveying the array of chairs in blank bewilderment.
PART XVII
A BOMB SHELL
In a Gallery near the Verney Chamber. Time—Same as that of the preceding Part.
Spurrell (to himself). I must say it's rather rough luck on that poor devil. I get his dress suit, and all he comes in for is my booby-trap! (Phillipson, wearing a holland blouse over her evening toilette, approaches from the other end of the passage; he does not recognise her until the moment of collision.) Emma!! It's never you! How do you come to be here?