[_Both appear equally satisfied and soothed by this
diplomatic, but slightly mystic response._

_A Vivandière_ (_to a Martyr, who is shuffling along inside a
property-trunk, covered with twigs, and supposed to represent a
Bird in the Hand_). Well, that's _one_ way of coming _out_ to enjoy
yourself, I suppose!

_A Middle-aged Man_ (_wandering behind the Orchestra_). It's
beastly dull, that's what it is--none of the give-and-take
humour and practical fun you get in Paris or Vienna!... That's a
nice, simple-looking little thing in the seat over there. (_The
simple-looking little thing peeps at him, with one eye over her fan,
in arch invitation._) Gad, I'll go up and talk to her--it will be
something to _do_, at any rate--she looks as if she wouldn't mind.
(_He goes up._) Think I know your face--haven't we met before?

_The Simple Little Thing_ (_after an elaborate wink aside at a_
Fireman). Shouldn't wonder. Don't you run away yet. Sit down and
talk to me--do now. No, not _that_ side--try the arm-chair, it's more
comfortable.

_The M.M._ (_throwing himself gracefully into a well-padded chintz
chair_). Well, really--(_The chair suddenly digs him in the ribs with
one of its elbows_). Eh, look here now--'pon my--(_He attempts to
rise, and finds himself tightly pinioned by the arms of the chair._)
There's some confounded fool _inside_ this chair!

_The Simple Little Thing_ (_tickling him under the chin with her