Over dinner I had set myself to discover Cummings's tastes, and found them to run in the direction of the music-hall stage. During his first glass I drew him out in this direction, your lordship having kindly given me opportunities of seeing every performance in London, and I spoke more freely than I should consider becoming in the ordinary way in order to make myself pleasant to him. I may say that his views on women and the stage were such as I should have expected from a man who would smoke with your lordship's port.
With the second glass I introduced the subject of your lordship's enquiries. In order to save time I will write our conversation in the form of a dialogue, as nearly as possible as it actually took place.
Cummings: You seem to get many opportunities of seeing a bit of life, Mr. Bunter.
Bunter: One can always make opportunities if one knows how.
Cummings: Ah, it's very easy for you to talk, Mr. Bunter. You're not married, for one thing.
Bunter: I know better than that, Mr. Cummings.
Cummings: So do I — now, when it's too late. (He sighed heavily, and I filled up his glass.)
Bunter: Does Mrs. Cummings live with you at Battersea?
Cummings: Yes; her and me we do for my governor. Such a life! Not but what there's a char comes in by the day. But what's a char? I can tell you it's dull all by ourselves in that d-d Battersea suburb.
Bunter: Not very convenient for the Halls, of course.