[Disgusted.] What? A rare example of early Persian work like that going for only sixteen guineas! I'd willingly have paid double the money!
Horace.
But your limit was seven pound ten, sir! And you warned me not to exceed it.
Professor Futvoye.
You should have used your own judgment, sir! Well, well,—which of the lots I marked did you get?
Horace.
[Going to Sylvia, who is sympathetically distressed.] Couldn't get one of 'em. They all fetched record prices.
Professor Futvoye.
[Violently.] Upon my soul!... Pringle, you were right! I ought to have employed a broker! [To Horace.] So you've come back with absolutely nothing?
Horace.