RICHARDSON. 'Of course you can smoke. I have often seen you smoking.'

STEVE, little aware of what an evening the sex is to give him, 'But
have I your permission?'

RICHARDSON. 'You're at your tricks again.'

STEVE, severely, 'Have you forgotten already how I told you a true
lady would answer?'

RICHARDSON. 'I minds, but it makes me that shy.' She has, however, a
try at it. 'Do smoke, Mr. Rollo, I loves the smell of it.'

Steve lights his pipe; no real villain smokes a pipe.

STEVE. 'Smoking is a blessed companion to a lonely devil like myself.'

RICHARDSON. 'Yes, sir.' Sharply, 'Would you say devil to a real lady,
sir?'

Steve, it may be hoped, is properly confused, but here the little
idyll of the chop is brought to a close by the tinkle of a bell.
Richardson springs to attention.

'That will be the friends you are expecting?'

STEVE. 'I was only half expecting them, but I daresay you are right.
Have you finished, Richardson?'

RICHARDSON. 'Thereabouts. Would a real lady lick the bone--in company