“Look here!” said Duke, rummaging in his drawer. “I’ve got the transfer written out, ready for signature, two copies—the exact words of our last agreement, only turned the other way, of course. I’m a plain man—is it to be or not to be?”
“That is the question,” said Tony sepulchrally. “But you see it isn’t so plain as you. You’ve depreciated my theatre and it’s not worth the extra pony. Why can’t you make a reasonable compromise and just swap back?”
“What! And be a pony out of pocket?”
“You’ll be an elephant out of pocket if you don’t,” Jinny reminded him. “Seven pounds sixteen and threepence a week mount up.”
“Ah, that was a particularly bad week.”
“Then there were good weeks?” flashed Tony.
“I tell you the best weren’t as good as the marionettes’ worst.”
“Come, come, old cock, draw it mild!”
“If you don’t believe me,” said Duke, firing up, “look for yourself! And what’s more, if you find I’m wrong, keep the pony and be hanged to you!”
“Easy! Easy! But I was never a man to refuse a sporting offer—tip us the tomes!”