Mr. Milb. That of course is a matter of taste. But we are talking about Art, not women.
Mr. L.-B. (profoundly). Unforsh'nately, women are the shubjects of Art. You've got to find out your client's shtyle of Art firsht, and then carry it out in the besht possible manner.
Mr. Milb. (rising, and knocking his pipe out). Have I? But I'm going to bed now, so you'll excuse me.
Mr. L.-B. (detaining him). But look here again. Take the Louvre. (As Mr. Milboard disclaims any desire to take it.) Now, nobody talksh about the Gallery there, and yet, if you only egshemp the thingsh that are rude and vulgar, and go quietly roun'——
Second Commercial (who sees a Socratic opening at last). Might I ask you, Sir, to enumerate any pictures there, that, in your opinion, are "rude and vulgar"?
[Mr. Milboard avails himself of this diversion to escape.
Mr. L.-B. In the Grand Gallery of the Louvre there'sh an enormous amount of shtuff, as everybody who'sh an artisht and a lover of Art knowsh. If I had a friend who wash thinking of going to the Louvre (here he looks round vaguely for Mr. Milboard), I should shay to him, "Do you care about pictursh at all? If you don't, don't borrer yourshelf 'bout it. If you do, drop in shome day with Me, and I'll give you a hint what to shee." (As he cannot make out what has become of Mr. Milboard, he has to content himself with the Second Commercial.) If you were my boy, I should shay to you——
Second Comm. (at the door). Pardon me for remarking that, if I was your boy, I should probably prefer to take my own opinion. (With dignified independence.) I never follow other persons' taste in Art!
[He goes out as the Smoke-room Page enters.
Mr. L.-B. (hazily with half-closed eyes). If you wash my boy, I should shay to you, very quietly, very sherioushly, and without 'tempting to dictate——(Perceives that he is addressing the Page.) Jus' bring me 'nother glash whiskey an' warrer.