mr. smallpeice again comes out of the dining-room.
mr. smallpeice. Mr. Leete.
carnaby. [Ironically polite.] Mr. Smallpeice.
mr. smallpeice. Mr. Crowe is proposing your health.
mr. crowe comes out. A crop-headed beefy-looking farmer of sixty.
mr. crowe. Was.
carnaby. There's a good enemy!
mr. crowe. Get out of my road . . lawyer Smallpeice.
carnaby. Leave enough of him living to attend to my business.
mr. smallpeice. [wriggling a bow at carnaby.] Oh . . dear sir!