Aubrey.
Certainly. What is it like?
Cayley.
I’ve no idea. It’s an ordinary sort of coat. Your man will know it if you ring for him.
Aubrey.
[Hesitating.] I’d rather fetch it for you myself, if you don’t mind. I should not like Parkes to see that you were smoking. It would set such a bad example.
Cayley.
[Throwing his cigarette on to the lawn in a rage, and closing the window with a shiver.] Don’t trouble. I’ll smoke in the train. By-the-way, what time is my train?
Aubrey.