Sylvia.
You think I believe that! [She rushes across to Mrs. Futvoye.] Oh, mother—mother!
Horace.
Professor, you know Arabic. Couldn't you get these people to understand that they aren't wanted?
Professor Futvoye.
[Coming forward.] I intend to. [In Arabic.] Eerga dugghery gowan illa bait bettah Harrood!
[As he speaks all the dancing girls raise their heads in horror, then rise screaming and holding their hands to their ears, and rush out through arches, followed by the musicians. The moment they disappear through the arches all is silent.
Pringle.
[Coming down to centre.] They weren't long in taking your hint, Professor. What did you say to them?
Professor Futvoye.