The H. M. No, it's left behind at Bologna. My friend's gone back for it. And I say, think it will turn up all right?
Porter. Eef you register it, and your vrient is zere, you ged it—yes.
The H. M. Yes, but look here, don't you know? Oughtn't I to make a row—a fuss—about it, or something, eh?
Porter (moving off with subdued contempt). Oh, you can make a foss, yes, if you like—you ged nossing!
Culch. and Podb. (stopping him simultaneously). I say, I want my luggage brought down from No.—in time for the twelve o'clock—(To each other.) Hallo! are you off too?
Culch. (confused). Er—yes—thought I might as well be getting back.
Podb. Then I—I suppose it's all settled—with Miss T.—you know—eh?
Culch. Fortunately—yes. And—er—your engagement happily concluded?
Podb. Well, it's concluded, anyway. It's all off, you know. I—I wasn't artistic enough for her.
Culch. She has refused you? My dear Podbury, I'm really delighted to hear this—at least, that is——