Rapkin.
[Reading.] "Delighted. Savoy, 8.15 to-night.—Ventimore." Excuse me, sir, but when is it you're expecting friends to dinner 'ere?
Horace.
[At a loss for the moment.] Er—when? I—I'm not sure. [As he crosses to his bedroom.] Oh, just tell Mrs. Rapkin I should like to see her.
[He goes into bedroom.
Rapkin.
[Looking round, as Mrs. Rapkin enters from landing.] Mr. Ventimore was just asking for you, Marire.
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Surprised.] Was he? I didn't know he'd come in.
[She crosses to the bookcase, places a newspaper on the shelf on left of fireplace, then goes to the windows and closes them.