[The expressions of the party indicate that, whatever the food may be, its savour is not exactly appetising.
Professor Futvoye.
I should just like to remark that, having lived in the East myself and had considerable experience of native cooking, I expect to be extremely unwell to-morrow.
Horace.
Let's hope for the best, Professor, hope for the best! [Turning to the Chief Slave behind him.] But, I say! You've forgotten the knives and forks. Nobody has any! What are these fellows about? [The Chief Slave explains in pantomime that fingers and thumbs are all that is necessary Eh? Do without them? Dip into the dish and help ourselves? Oh—if you say we've got to! [To Mrs. Futvoye.] Mrs. Futvoye, can I persuade you to—er—have first dip?
Mrs. Futvoye.
Really, Horace, I must get my gloves off first!
[She removes them.
Horace.
It does seem a little messy. But quite Arabian, you know—quite Arabian!