Roberts: "But where's the coat, even if I could get the other things on?"
Campbell: "We'll think about that later. We haven't got any time to lose in talk. We can pin back the skirts of your frock-coat, as the travelling Americans used to do when they went to the opera in London. Hurry up!" He gives Roberts the garments, and pushes him into the door of his dressing-room, and walks impatiently up and down amidst the chaos of clothing till Roberts reappears. "Why, that isn't bad!"
Roberts: "Bad? I can't breathe; I feel as if I were being cut in two!"
Campbell: "Nonsense! That's the way every woman feels when she's laced. It gives you a beautiful waist, Roberts! Ah, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! O Lord! Oh, mercy! Ah, ha, ha, ha!"
Roberts: "Now, look here, Willis—"
Campbell, turning him round, and surveying him from different points: "No, no! Don't mind me! It's just my way, you know. I don't mean anything by it. I think these things look first-rate on you. There's no mistake about their giving you a youthful figure; we can just let them out a few stitches, and you'll be perfectly comfortable. The only thing now is the coat. I'm afraid that pinning back wouldn't do. We'd better try something else. I'll tell you! Send down and borrow Merrick's coat! He's still on the floor below you, I suppose?"
Roberts: "Yes, but he's so thin—"
Campbell: "The very thing! Those thin fellows always have their things made roomy—"
Roberts: "But he's tall."
Campbell: "That's all right. If you keep these things on you've got to give in some direction, and you're probably going to stretch." He rings the bell.