Yardsley. You might omit the spoons too, after a remark like that, Miss Dorothy.
Dorothy. We'll omit Mr. Barlow's spoon. I'll bring some for you and me.
[She goes out.
Yardsley (with a laugh). That's one on you, Barlow. But I say, old man (taking out his watch and snapping the cover to three or four times), it's getting very late—after five now. If you want to go with Billie Wilkins you'd better take up your hat and walk. I'll say good-bye to Miss Andrews for you.
Barlow. Thanks. Too late now. You said Billie wouldn't wait after four-thirty.
Yardsley. Did I say four-thirty? I meant five-thirty. Anyhow, Billie isn't over-prompt. Better go.
Barlow. You seem mighty anxious to get rid of me.
Yardsley. I? Not at all, my dear boy—not at all. I'm very, very fond of you, but I thought you'd prefer opera to me. Don't you see? That's where my modesty comes in. You're so fond of a good chat I thought you'd want to go to-night. Wilkins has a box.
Barlow. You said seats a little while ago.
Yardsley. Of course I did. And why not? There are seats in boxes. Didn't you know that?