Take your seats. What Book is that, beneath your arm, Talboys?
TALBOYS.
The Volume you bid me bring with me this Evening to the Wren's Nest.
NORTH.
Yes, yes—now I remember. You are here by appointment.
TALBOYS.
Else had we not been here. We had not merely your permission, sir—but your invitation.
NORTH.
I was expecting you—and by hands unseen this our Round Table has been spread for my guests. Pretty coffee-cups, are they not? Ask no questions—there they are—but handle them gently—for the porcelain is delicate—and at rude touch will disappear from your fingers. A Book. Ay, ay—a Quarto—and by a writer of deserved Fame.