Dor. Thank you, ma'am. (Pillenger hands salt, etc.)
Lucy. How did you do over it? (hands toast to Dorvaston)
Dor. So so. I took a few lives at the finish.
Miss P. Dear me! It sounds rather a bloodthirsty pastime.
Dor. There was a man there named Crayll—nailing good player! Potted 'em just as he liked. He seemed to be a thirsty little beggar. I should say he took a bit of knowing.
Lucy. Who's that, Jack?
Dor. This fellah Crayll. He's stopping at the Plough and Thingummy—we're going to try a horse together.
Lucy. To-day?
Dor. Yes. Said he'd call round some time this morning. (pause)
Pil. Hannah, we must dine earlier this evening, in view of the Penny Reading.