Podb. De trop or not, I mean going—she shall choose between us.
Culch. (turning pale). I suppose you intend to enlighten her as to my—er—little flirtation (before I knew her) with Miss TROTTER? Do it, PODBURY, do it—if you think you'll gain any good by it!
Podb. Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But you don't go on that balcony without me—that's all.
Culch. Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What you propose is ridiculous. I—I don't mind conceding this: we'll each go, and—er tit up, as you call it, which goes first.
Podb. Done with you! (Produces a mark.) Sudden death. You're Eagle—I'm the other Johnny. (Tosses.) Eagle! Confound you! But I mean to have my innings all the same.
Culch. You're perfectly welcome—when I've had mine. I'll—er—wish you good evening.
[He stalks out triumphantly. PODBURY places himself in a position from which he can command a view of the Musik-saal, over the top of "über Land und Meer," and awaits results.