Krakau [who has taken cigars from the cupboard]. Who wants to smoke?
Hansen [with delight.] Cigars too!
[Krakau passes the cigars. Hansen, Hammer and Johnston each take one. The sun now shines on the table and men.]
Buffe. The sun is as red as wine.
Hansen [with a sigh]. Autumn is coming.
Hansen. We've had Autumn weather for two weeks past.
Helms. Unseasonable weather! I hate it. [During the entire scene he has been ill at ease, casting frequent apprehensive glances at Krakau, who avoids his gaze.]
Buffe. It isn't like it used to be.
Hammer. No. When the calendar said Summer we had Summer.
Bolling [apropos of nothing]. I am ninety-two.