Clara. I don't know that I care to be like the women of your family. I will have one, if you please. No doubt you get them from a man of taste.
Thief. Your next-door neighbor. This is—was—his case. Exquisite taste. Seen this case often, I suppose? [He eyes them closely.] Great friends? Or perhaps you don't move in the same circles. [Clara glares at him.] Pardon me. Tactless of me, but how could I guess? Well, here's your chance to get acquainted with his cigarettes. Will you have one now?
Clara. I don't receive stolen goods.
Thief. That's a little hard on Charles, isn't it? He seems to be enjoying his.
Charles. Bully cigarette. Hempsted's a connoisseur. Truth is—we don't know the Hempsteds. They've never called.
Thief. That's right, Charles. Tell the truth and shame [with a jerk of his head toward Clara]—you know who.
Clara. Charles, there isn't any reason, I'm sure—
Thief. Quietly, please. Remember my head. I'm sorry, but I must decline to discuss your social prospects with you, and also your neighbors' shortcomings, much as we should all enjoy it. There isn't time for that. Let's get down to business. The question we've got to decide and decide very quickly is, What would you like to have me take?
Clara [aghast]. What would we—what would we like to have you take? Why—why—you can't take anything now; we're here. Of all the nerve! What would we like—
Thief. It gains by repetition, doesn't it?