_ It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We haven't been
on speaking terms these three days. And, after all (_feebly_) we're
supposed to be travelling together, don't you know! _You_ might drop
him a hint now.
_Prend._ Don't see how I can very well--not on my own hook. Might lead
to ructions with HYPATIA, too.
_Podb._ (_anxiously_). BOB, you--you don't think your sister
really--eh?
_Prend._ HYPATIA's a rum girl--always was. She certainly don't seem to
object to your friend CULCHARD. What the dickens she can see in him,
I don't know!--but it's no use my putting _my_ oar in. She'd only jump
on _me_, y'know!
_Podb._ (_rising_). Then I _must_. If that's what he's really after,
I think I can stop his little game. I'll try, at any rate. It's a long
worm that has no turning, and I've had about enough of it. The first
chance I get. I'll go for him.
_Prend._ Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're coming in now.
We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too much time.
[_They go in._
_In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed doors
opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with German
and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the English
Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and conversing.
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