and bright. He is smoking an enormous cigar.]

BENNET. Mr. Newte.

FANNY [she springs up and greets him. They are evidently good
friends] . Hulloa, George!

NEWTE. Hulloa, Fan--I beg your pardon, Lady Bantock. [Laughs.] Was
just passing this way -

FANNY [cutting him short]. Yes. So nice of you to call.

NEWTE. I said to myself--[His eye catches Bennet; he stops.] Ah,
thanks. [He gives Bennet his hat and stick, but Bennet does not seem
satisfied. He has taken from the table a small china tray. This he
is holding out to Newte, evidently for Newte to put something in it.
But what? Newte is puzzled, he glances at Fanny. The idea strikes
him that perhaps it is a tip Bennet is waiting for. It seems odd,
but if it be the custom--he puts his hand to his trousers pocket.]

BENNET. The smoking-room is on the ground-floor.

NEWTE. Ah, my cigar. I beg your pardon. I couldn't understand.
[He puts it on the tray--breaks into a laugh.]

BENNET. Thank you. Her ladyship is suffering from a headache. If I
might suggest--a little less boisterousness. [He goes out.]

NEWTE [he watches him out]. I say, your Lord Chamberlain's a bit of
a freezer!