Man:  Well, what are you going to have?

Woman:  But look here, little Charlie, you can’t possibly afford to pay for this!

Man:  Never said I could.  It’s the paper that pays.  So go ahead.

Woman:  Is Lord Nasing so keen as all that?

Man:  It isn’t Lord Nasing.  It’s our brand new editor specially imported from Chicago.

Woman:  Will he last?

Man:  He’ll last a hundred nights, say as long as the run of your piece.  Then he’ll get six months’ screw and the boot.

Woman:  How much is six months’ screw?

Man:  Three thousand.

Woman:  Well, I can hardly earn that myself.

Man:  Neither can I. But then you see we weren’t born in Chicago.

Woman:  I’ve been offered a thousand dollars a week to go there, anyhow.

Man:  Why didn’t you tell me that for the interview?  I’ve spent two entire entr’actes in trying to get something interesting out of you, and there you go and keep a thing like that up your sleeve.  It’s not fair to an old and faithful admirer.  I shall stick it in.  Poulet chasseur?

Woman:  Oh no!  Couldn’t dream of it.  Didn’t you know I was dieting?  Nothing saucy.  No sugar.  No bread.  No tea.  Thanks to that I’ve lost nearly a stone in six months.  You know I was getting enormous.

Man:  Let me put that in, eh?

Woman:  Just try, and see what happens to you!

Man:  Well, shall we say a lettuce salad, and a Perrier and soda?  I’m dieting, too.

Waiter:  Lettuce salad, and a Perrier and soda?  Yes, sir.

Woman:  You aren’t very gay.

Man:  Gay!  You don’t know all the yearnings of my soul.  Don’t imagine that because I’m a special of the Record I haven’t got a soul.

Woman:  I suppose you’ve been reading that book, Omar Khayyam, that every one’s talking about.  Isn’t that what it’s called?

Man:  Has Omar Khayyam reached the theatrical world?  Well, there’s no doubt the earth does move, after all.

Woman:  A little more soda, please.  And just a trifle less impudence.  What book ought one to be reading, then?

Man:  Socialism’s the thing just now.  Read Wells on Socialism.  It’ll be all over the theatrical world in a few years’ time.

Woman:  No fear!  I can’t bear Wells.  He’s always stirring up the dregs.  I don’t mind froth, but I do draw the line at dregs.  What’s the band playing?  What have you been doing to-day? Is this lettuce?  No, no!  No bread.  Didn’t you hear me tell you?

Man:  I’ve been busy with the Priam Farll affair.

Woman:  Priam Farll?

Man:  Yes.  Painter. You know.

Woman:  Oh yes. Him!  I saw it on the posters.  He’s dead, it seems.  Anything mysterious?