[She turns her shoulder on him with marked displeasure.
Pringle.
So you keep a private band, do you, Ventimore?
Horace.
No, no,—of course I don't. It—it's only engaged for the evening.
Pringle.
I see. Hired from the Arab encampment at Earl's Court, eh?
Horace.
[Irritated.] You've guessed it first time, Pringle!
Pringle.