THE SECOND ACT
The scene is the Arabian Hall—an hour later. The slaves are offering the guests water in golden bowls, and insisting on wiping their hands for them, an attention which the Professor resents.
Professor Futvoye.
Ventimore!
Horace.
[Seated in utter dejection.] Yes, Professor?
Professor Futvoye.
I infer from the fact that the last course seemed to be something in the nature of—ah—sweets——
[Mrs. Futvoye and Pringle exchange glances, and sigh audibly.