_Woman_: Oh yes, you can do _that_. You might say, of the musical comedy
stage.

_Man_: I will. I'll run something together. Trust me. Thanks awfully.

At this point a young and emaciated priest passed up the room.

_Woman_: Oh! Father Luke, is that you? Do come and sit here and be nice.
This is Father Luke Widgery--Mr. Docksey, of the _Record_.

_Man_: Delighted.

_Priest_: Delighted.

_Woman_: Now, Father Luke, I've just _got_ to come to your sermon
to-morrow. What's it about?

_Priest_: Modern vice.

_Woman_: How charming! I read the last one--it was lovely.

_Priest_: Unless you have a ticket you'll never be able to get in.

_Woman_: But I must get in. I'll come to the vestry door, if there is a
vestry door at St. Bede's.

_Priest_: It's impossible. You've no idea of the crush. And I've no
favourites.