_Surveyor_ (_looking somehow disappointed_). Very sorry, of course,
but you see what must be must.

_Builder_ (_sadly_). Yes, yes, no doubt. Well (_brightening_), anyhow,
we may as well step over to the "Crown and Thistle," and crack a
bottle of champagne.

_Surveyor_ (_also brightening_). Well, ours is a dusty job, and I
don't care if I do.

[_They do so. Surveyor drinks his full share of Heidsieck,
and smokes a cigar of full size and flavour. He and
Builder exchange reminiscences concerning past professional
experiences, the "tricks of trade," diverse devices for
"dodging the Act," &c., &c. Surveyor explains how stubborn
builders ("not like you, you know"), who don't do the thing
handsome, often suffer by having to run themselves to expenses
that might have been avoided--and serve 'em right too! Also,
how others, without a temper above "tips," and of a generally
gentlemanly tone of mind, save themselves lots of little
extras, which, maybe, the letter of the law would exact,
but which a Surveyor of sense and good feeling can get
over, "and no harm done, neither, to nobody." As the wine
circulates, it is noticeable that good-fellowship grows almost
boisterous, and facetiousness mellows into chuckling cynicism
of the winking, waggish, "we all do it" sort._

_Surveyor_ (_tossing off last glass, and smacking his lips_). Well,
well, the best of friends must part, and I guess I must be toddling.