Alma. This is Sir Humphrey Chetwynd—Mr. Dick.
Dick. (crosses to Sir Humphrey) Pleased to make your acquaintance. Nice sort of place you have down here. (looking round)
Sir H. Quiet, Mr. Dick, and yet accessible.
Dick. Out of the way, I call it—out of my way, at any rate. Make a good set, eh, wouldn’t it? That window’s fine, opens out the scene, and shows that landscape backing. Daren’t use that sky. Scrubbs is the man for skies.
Sir H. Is he indeed?
Dick. There’s an originality about his skies—you never saw such skies. The critics go in for originality. Scrubbs gives it ’em.
Alma. And don’t they give it Scrubbs?
Dick. Ha! ha! I’ll make a note of that. Give it to Sparkle—do for his next comedy. Poor Sparkle! Clever man, but sadly overworked. No wonder he’s behindhand with our piece.
Alma. It’s your own fault. Give someone else a chance.