Podb. (to himself, as he advances). If she's carrying on with that fellow, Culchard, to provoke me, I'll soon show her how little I—(Aloud.) I say, old man, hope I'm not interrupting you, but I just want to speak to you for a minute, if Miss Trotter will excuse us. Is there any particular point in going as far as Bingen to-night, eh?
Culch. (resignedly). As much as there is in not going farther than somewhere else, I should have thought.
Podb. Well, but look here—why not stop at Bacharach, and see what sort of a place it is?
Culch. You forget that our time is limited if we're going to stick to our original route.
Podb. Yes, of course; mustn't waste any on the Rhine. Suppose we push on to Maintz to-night, and get the Rhine off our hands then? (With a glance at Miss Trotter.) The sooner I've done with this steamer business the better!
Miss T. Well, Mr. Podbury, that's not a vurry complimentary remark to make before me!
Podb. We've seen so little of one another lately that it can hardly make much difference—to either of us—can it?
Miss T. Now I call that real kind, you're consoling me in advance!
The Steward (coming up). De dickets dat I haf nod yed seen! (examining Culchard's coupons). For Bingen—so?
Culch. I am. This gentleman gets off—is it Bacharach or Maintz, Podbury?