The Veg. Enth. Only one brand—non-alcoholic, of course. Manufactured I believe, from—ah—oranges.
The Neoph. Exactly so. After all, I'd just as soon have bottled ale—if they keep it, that is.
The Veg. Enth. Any quantity of it. What shall it be? They've "Anti-Bass Beer," or "Spruce Stout;" or perhaps you'd like to try their "Pennyroyal Porter?" I'm rather partial to it myself—capital tonic!
The Neoph. I—I've no doubt of it. On second thoughts, if you don't mind, I'd rather have water. (To himself.) It doesn't look Vegetarian!
The Veg. Enth. (more heartily than ever). Just as you please, my boy. But you don't mean to say you've done!
The Neoph (earnestly). Indeed, I couldn't touch another morsel, really!
The Veg. Enth. I thought that stew looked satisfying; that's where it is, you see—a man can come here and get a thoroughly nutritious and filling meal for the trifling sum of fourpence—and yet you meet people who tell you Vegetarianism is a mere passing fad! It's a force that's making itself increasingly felt—you must be conscious of that yourself already?
The Neoph. (politely). Y-yes—but it's not at all unpleasant at present—really!
Enter a couple of Red-faced Customers from the country, who seat themselves.