[He stands blinking and slightly swaying.
Mrs. Rapkin.
But do you mean to say you don't see nothing?
Rapkin.
[Muzzily.] Not over distinct, M'rire. Curus opt'cal d'lusion—due to overshtudy—everything's spinnin' round. 'Ave I stepped into Alhambra, or 'ave I not? That's all I want to know.
Horace.
[Outside from right.] That you, Rapkin? I want you.
Mrs. Rapkin.
[To Rapkin.] You ast 'im where you are—he's better able to tell you than I am. I'm going back to my kitching.