“I don’t do anything of the sort.”
“You’d best not. I was thinking if a run to Australia, or California, or Timbuctoo would not be healthy just now.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I made up my mind yesterday, that if I don’t have better hands soon, I’ll chuck up the whole game. That’s the sort of new potatoes that I am.”
“The Legitimate?”
“The Legitimate be frizzled! Am I to continue paying for the suppers that other tarty chips eat? That’s what I want you to tell me. You know what a square deal is, Wynne, as well as most people.”
“I believe I do.”
“Well, then, you can tell me if I’m to pay for dry champagne for her guests.”
“Whose guests?”
“Great Godfrey! haven’t I been telling you? Mrs. Mowbray’s guests. Who else’s would they be? Do you mean to tell me that, in addition to giving people free boxes at the Legitimate every night to see W. S. late of Stratford upon Avon, it’s my business to supply dry champagne all round after the performance?”