Pringle.
[In a savage undertone to Horace.] This is your work! I see how it is—you've made 'em all knuckle down, somehow!
Horace.
[Earnestly, in an undertone to him.] It isn't that, my dear fellow. They've forgotten—utterly forgotten everything. And so will you if you're a wise man.
Pringle.
They may pretend to forget if they like! But I'm hanged if I do!
Mrs. Futvoye.
[Who has risen, leaving Sylvia to talk to Mrs. Wackerbath, now advances to Pringle.] What is this Sylvia tells me, Mr. Pringle? Surely you haven't been expecting us to dine with you to-night?
Pringle.
I not only have been, I am, my dear lady.