Sphinx. You must really excuse me. I am not in good voice. By the way, the "Gilded Barge," as you call it, was merely a shabby sort of punt. It would have had no effect whatever at the Henley Regatta.
Poet. Dear me! Is it true you played golf among the Pyramids?
Sphinx (emphatically). Perfectly untrue. You see what absurd reports get about!
Poet (softly). They do. What was that story about the Tyrian?
Sphinx. Merely gossip. There was nothing in it, I assure you.
Poet. And Apis?
Sphinx. Oh, he sent me some flowers, and there were paragraphs about it—in hieroglyphs—in the society papers. That was all. But they were contradicted.
Poet. You knew Ammon very well, I believe?
Sphinx (frankly). Ammon and I were great pals. I used to see a good deal of him. He came in to tea very often—he was quite interesting. But I have not seen him for a long time. He had one fault—he would smoke in the drawing-room. And though I hope I am not too conventional, I really could not allow that.
Poet. How pleased they would all be to see you again! Why do you not go over to Egypt for the winter?