His Friend. So I did (he produces an enormous nose and cheeks from his tail-pocket). But it's no mortal use; the minute I put it on I'm recognised (plaintively). And I gave one-and-ninepence for the beastly thing, too!
Young Man of the Period (meeting a female acquaintance attired in ferns, rock-work, and coloured shells, illuminated by portable electric light). Hul-lo! You are a swell! And what are you supposed to be?
The Lady in Rock-work. Can't you see? I'm a Fairy Grotto. Good idea, isn't it?
He. Rippin'! But what the mischief have you got on your shoulder?
She. Oh, that's an aquarium—real goldfish. See!
[Exhibiting them with pride.
He. Ain't you lettin' 'em sit up rather late? They will be chippy to-morrow—off colour, don't you know.
She. Will they? What ought I to do for them, then?
He. Do? Oh, just put a brandy-and-soda in their tank.
Later; Supper is going on in the Boxes and Supper-room, and the festivity has been further increased by the arrival of a party of Low Comedians and Music-Hall Stars. The Lancers have been danced with more abandonment, and several entirely new and original figures.