Buffe. How is Larsen's brain fever getting along?
Hansen. He must be worse. The porter chased the organ grinder away.
Hammer. I thought I heard the organ. Is this Thursday?
Krakau. Thursday, September twentieth.
Helms [testily]. Don't show off, Krakau.
Johnston [raises his glass]. Here's health. Splendid sherry.
Krakau [to Buffe]. Why aren't you drinking?
Buffe. Thanks. I never take more than one glass. This sunshine warms you as much as wine.
Hammer. I have the morning sun in my window.
Hansen. So have I. It wakes me up every morning. It's supposed to be healthy.