Many
thanks, you men. I'll send round the chaprassi tomorrow.
Curtiss. You must engineer his taking the stuff, and of course you mustn't--
Anthony. Of course. It would never do. He'd weep with gratitude over his
evening drink.
Blayne. That's just what he would do, damn him. Oh! I say, Anthony, you pretend
to know everything. Have you heard about Gadsby?
Anthony. No. Divorce Court at last?
Blayne. Worse. He's engaged!
Anthony. How much? He can't be!
Blayne. He is. He's going to be married in a few weeks. Markyn told me at the
Judge's this evening. It's pukka.
Anthony. You don't say so? Holy Moses! There'll be a shine in the tents of
Kedar.
Curtiss. 'Regiment cut up rough, think you?
Anthony. 'Don't know anything about the Regiment.
Mackesy. It is bigamy, then?
Anthony. Maybe. Do you mean to say that you men have forgotten, or is there
more charity in the world than I thought?
Doone. You don't look pretty when you are trying to keep a secret. You bloat.
Explain.
Anthony. Mrs. Herriott!
Blayne. (After a long pause, to the room generally.) It's my notion that we are
a set of fools.
Mackesy. Nonsense. That business was knocked on the head last season. Why,
young Mallard--
Anthony.
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