(George comes down with salver to table R., gathers up glasses.)
Somers. Not quite so much hot water in mine.
Malcolm. I'll have the same again, George.
Beldon. A leetle bit of lemon in mine, George.
Leek. Whisky and soda for me, please.
Hirst. Whisky!
(George goes to table R., collects glasses, crosses to door L. speaks.)
George (to Malcolm). Shall I light the gas, Mr. Malcolm? (At door.)
Malcolm. No, the fire's very comfortable, unless any of you gentlemen prefer the gas.
Omnes. No, not at all—etc.