[Drily.] So I perceive. No matter, I must do without my usual after-dinner coffee, that's all! But at least, Ventimore, you must know where to lay your hand on your cigar-box!
Horace.
I did—before the place was altered so,—but I'm not sure if——[He rises.] I'll just go and have a look in my bedroom.
[He crosses and goes out by the lower arch on the right.
Pringle.
[To the Professor.] Seems to me that Oriental hospitality has been rather over-rated!
Professor Futvoye.
[Gloomily.] Ah! I know I wish I'd ordered our cab for ten o'clock, instead of eleven! Receiving us with all this ostentation, and yet grudging us the most ordinary comforts—I can't understand it!
Pringle.
[Rising.] It may be his notion of humour. [As he moves across to Sylvia.] If you and Mrs. Futvoye and Miss Sylvia will only give me the pleasure of dining with me some night at the Holborn,—or rather the Savoy—I would endeavour to wipe out the memory of this evening's sufferings.