uncles won't be frightfully angry at Mr. Sampson Straight's articles?
Why, dash it, when he's talking about traffic in honours, if he doesn't
mean them who does he mean?

TRANTO. My dear friend, stuff like that's meat and drink to my uncles.
They put it down like chocolates.

JOHN. Well my deliberate opinion is--it's a jolly strange world. (_Exit
quickly, back)_.

TRANTO (_looking at_ Hildegarde). So it is. Philosopher, John! Questions
rather pointed perhaps; but result in the discovery of new truths. By
the way, have I come too early?

HILDEGARDE (_archly)_. How could you? But father's controlling the
country half an hour more than usual this evening, and I expect mamma
was so angry about it she forgot to telephone you that dinner's moved
accordingly. (_With piquancy and humour_.) I was rather surprised to
hear when I got home from my Ministry that you'd sent word you'd like to
dine to-night.

TRANTO. Were you? Why?

HILDEGARDE. Because last week when mamma _asked_ you for to-night, you
said you had another engagement.

TRANTO. Oh! I'd forgotten I'd told her that. Still, I really had
another engagement.

HILDEGARDE. The Countess of Blackfriars--you said.