"Soames!"
Soames turned his head a very little.
"How are YOU?" he said. "Haven't seen you for twenty years."
"No. Whatever made YOU come here?"
"My sins," said Soames. "What stuff!"
"Stuff? Oh, yes—of course; it hasn't ARRIVED yet."
"It never will," said Soames; "it must be making a dead loss."
"Of course it is."
"How d'you know?"
"It's my Gallery."