_Culch._ And give up Nuremberg? Thank you!

_Podb._ I rather like this place, you know--sort of rest. And we could
always nip over to Ems, or Homburg, if it got too slow, eh?

[Illustration: "Good Heavens, It--It's gone!"]

_Culch._ If I nip over anywhere, I shall nip to Nuremberg. We may
just as well understand one another, PODBURY. If I'm to provide money
for both of us, it's only reasonable that you should be content to
go where _I_ choose. I cannot, and will not, stand these perpetual
interferences with our original plan; it's sheer restlessness. Come
with me to Nuremberg, and I shall be very happy to be your banker.
Otherwise, you must stay here alone.

[_He compresses his lips and crosses his legs._

_Podb._ Oh, _that_'s it, is it? But look here, why not tit up whether
we go on or stay?

_Culch._ Why should I "tit up," as you call it, when I've already made
up my mind to go. When I once decide on anything, it's final.

_The Bride_ (_to Bridegroom, without enthusiasm_). Would you like me
to roll you a cigarette?

_Bridegroom_ (_with the frankness of an open nature_). Not if I know
it. I can do it better myself.

_Bride_ (_coldly_). I see.