Hildegarde _is sitting at a desk, writing_. John, _in a lounging
attitude, is reading a newspaper_.

_Enter_ Tranto, _back_.

TRANTO. Good evening.

HILDEGARDE (_turning slightly in her seat and giving him her left hand,
the right still holding a pen_). Good evening. Excuse me one moment.

TRANTO. All right about my dining here to-night? (Hildegarde _nods_.)
Larder equal to the strain?

HILDEGARDE. Macaroni.

TRANTO. Splendid.

HILDEGARDE. Beefsteak.

TRANTO. Great heavens! (_imitates sketchily the motions of cutting up a
piece of steak. Shaking hands with_ John, _who has risen_). Well, John.
How are things? Don't let me disturb you. Have a cigarette.

JOHN (_flattered_). Thanks. (_As they light cigarettes_.) You're the
first person here that's treated me like a human being.

TRANTO. Oh!

JOHN. Yes. They all treat me as if I was a schoolboy home for the hols.