LORD W. Can't you come, Nell?
LADY W. Oh! Bill, your Dad wants to speak.
LORD W. The deuce he does—that's bad.
LADY W. Yes, of course, but you must let him; he's found something he said in 1914.
LORD W. I knew it. That's what they'll say. Standing stock still, while hell's on the jump around us.
LADY W. Never mind that; it'll please him; and he's got a lovely little sweated toy that turns head over heels at one penny.
LORD W. H'm! Well, come on.
LADY W. No, I must wait for stragglers. There's sure to be an editor in a hurry.
POULDER. [Announcing] Mis-ter Gold-rum!
LADY W. [Sotto voce] And there he is! [She advances to meet a thin, straggling man in eyeglasses, who is smiling absently] How good of you!