[With dignity.] I think you forget yourself, Anthony!
[Pringle opens the door for her, and she goes out.
Sylvia.
[Going to Pringle, and taking his hand.] Dear, dear Mr. Pringle! Where should we be without you?
Pringle.
[Modestly.] Don't mention it, Miss Sylvia! That is—no trouble, I assure you!
[They come down together to the left, talking in dumb show.
Horace.
[Going to Fakrash on the right.] You—you pig-headed old muddler—[pointing to Sylvia and Pringle]—look at that! You've done for me this time.
Fakrash.