Mrs. Toov. (with equal acidity). Ah, young woman, you need not tell me that! (She goes out with a withering glance, and hears stifled sniggers as the doors swing after her.) A drinking-bar on the very threshold to trap the unwary—disgraceful! (She tries the next door, and finds a stalwart official, in a fancy uniform.) Will you have the goodness to conduct me to Box C, instantly?
The Official. Next door, please, Ma'am. This only admits to the Grand Lounge.
Mrs. Toov. (to herself). The "Grand Lounge," indeed! (She opens another door, and finds a Pay-box, where she addresses the check-taker through the pigeon-hole.) I want to go to Box C. I've asked for it at I don't know how many places, and——
Checktaker (politely). I'm really afraid you'll have to ask again, Ma'am. This is the Promenade. Box-office next entrance.
Mrs. Toov. (to herself, indignantly). I only hope they make it as difficult for other people to get in as they do for me! So Pa comes here to lounge and promenade, does he? Oh, let me only catch him, I'll send him promenading! (She goes to the Box-office.) I want Box C, wherever that is.
Book-Keeper. Can give you Box D, if you like. Box C is reserved for this evening.
Mrs. Toov. (sharply). I am quite aware of that. For Mr. Theophilus Toovey. I have come to join him here.
Book-K. (referring to book). It is entered in that name, certainly; but—hem—may I ask if you belong to Mr. Toovey's party?
Mrs. Toov. (crushingly). No doubt you consider that his wife has no claim to—— Most certainly I belong to his party.
Book-K. That is quite sufficient, Madam. (To Attendant.) Show this lady to Box C. (To himself, as Mrs. T. follows the Attendant up some velvet-covered stairs.) Well, it's no business of mine; but if Mr. Toovey, whoever he is, isn't careful what he's about, he may be sorry for it—that's all!