I. I can't tell yet.
He. Surely the flag's up.
[He steps into the road and waves his stick.
I. It's a private car.
He. Hang the thing! so it is. They ought to be painted white or something. Life is not worth living just now.
I. They're best for trousers, I should say. Their overcoats——
He (pointing up side-street). Isn't that one there? Hi, taxi! Good heavens, that other fellow's got it. We really must walk faster. If there isn't one on the rank in Sloane Square, I'm done. If there's one thing I hate it's being late. Besides, I'm blamed hungry. When I'm hungry I'm miserable till I eat. No good to anyone.
I. As I was saying——
He. What I want to know is, where are the taxis? They're not on the streets, anyway; then where are they? One never sees a yard full of them, but they must be somewhere. It's a scandal—a positive outrage.
I. Their overcoats can be very disappointing. I don't know how it is, but they don't seem to understand overcoats. But they're so good in other ways, you know, that really if you are thinking——