[Starting up and coming towards Fakrash.] He never meant it! And, anyhow, you're safe enough!
Fakrash.
[Turning on him fiercely.] Hold thy lying tongue!
Pringle.
Ventimore, I must beg you not to interfere.
Horace.
Damn it all, Pringle, he's my Jinnee—not yours!
[He attempts to join Mrs. Futvoye and Sylvia, who turn their backs on him, after which he returns to his former place, crushed.
Pringle.
[To Fakrash.] Evidently, sir, there has been some slight misunderstanding on both sides. But I feel confident that, if you will only consent to see this unfortunate gentleman, the matter can very soon be amicably arranged.