[Approaching him, and speaking soothingly.] No, not every one. There was old Wackerbath—the client you sent me—I haven't rejected him. I'm going to build him a country-house.
Fakrash.
Ha! And on what spot is this mansion to be erected?
Horace.
Oh, he seems to have got an excellent site—on a hill near Lipsfield, between Hampshire and Surrey.
Fakrash.
[Touching his own brow.] It is on the tablet! And have no anxiety,—for the palace that will arise shall assuredly be the wonder of the universe!
Horace.
Very kind of you to say so—when I haven't even begun to work at it yet. And now—about these halls? [Persuasively.] You will turn 'em back into my old rooms, won't you? You're such a deuced clever old Johnny—I mean, Jinnee!
Fakrash.