ANTHONY. Let's see. Three fifties and a seventy-two twenty-three twenty-say four hundred and twenty. That'll give him a month clear at the Hills. Many thanks, you men. I'll send round the chaprassi to-morrow.
CURTISS. You must engineer his taking the stuff, and of course you mustn't—
ANTHONY. Of course. It would never do. He'd weep with gratitude over his evening drink.
BLAYNE. That's just what he would do, damn him. Oh! I say, Anthony, you pretend to know everything. Have you heard about Gandy?
ANTHONY. No. Divorce Court at last?
BLAYNE. Worse. He's engaged!
ANTHONY. How much? He can't be!
BLAYNE. He is. He's going to be married in a few weeks. Markyn told me at the Judge's this evening. It's pukka.
ANTHONY. You don't say so? Holy Moses! There'll be a shine in the tents of Kedar.
CURTISS. 'Regiment cut up rough, think you?