Bride (without looking at him).  I should think you could spare me one—­you can hardly sit on three at once!

    [After this interchange of amenities, they consider
    themselves absolved from any further conversational efforts.

Podb. (to CULCH., resuming a discussion).  I know as well as you do that we are booked for Nuremberg; but what I say is—­that’s no earthly reason why we should go there!

Culch. No reason why you should go, unless you wish it, certainly. I intend to go.

Podb. Well, it’s beastly selfish, that’s all!  I know why you’re so keen about it, too.  Because the TROTTERS are going.

Culch. (colouring).  That’s an entire mistake on your part.  Miss TROTTER has nothing to do with it.  I don’t even know whether she’s going or not—­for certain.

Podb. No, but you’ve a pretty good idea that she is, though.  And I know how it will be.  You’ll be going about with her all the time, and I shall be shunted on to the old man!  I don’t see it, you know! (CULCH. remains silent.  A pause.  PODBURY suddenly begins to search his pockets.) I say—­here’s a pretty fix!  Look here, old fellow, doosid annoying thing, but I can’t find my purse—­must have lost it somewhere!

Culch. (stoically).  I can’t say I’m surprised to hear it.  It’s awkward, certainly.  I suppose I shall have to lend you enough to go home with—­it’s all I can do; but I’ll do that with—­er—­pleasure.

Podb. (staring).  Go home?  Why, I can wire to the governor for more, easily enough.  We shall have to stay here till it comes, that’s all.

Culch. And give up Nuremberg?  Thank you!

Podb. I rather like this place, you know—­sort of rest.  And we could always nip over to Ems, or Homburg, if it got too slow, eh?

[Illustration:  “Good Heavens, It—­It’s gone!”]

Culch. If I nip over anywhere, I shall nip to Nuremberg.  We may just as well understand one another, PODBURY.  If I’m to provide money for both of us, it’s only reasonable that you should be content to go where I choose.  I cannot, and will not, stand these perpetual interferences with our original plan; it’s sheer restlessness.  Come with me to Nuremberg, and I shall be very happy to be your banker.  Otherwise, you must stay here alone.

    [He compresses his lips and crosses his legs.

Podb. Oh, that’s it, is it?  But look here, why not tit up whether we go on or stay?

Culch. Why should I “tit up,” as you call it, when I’ve already made up my mind to go.  When I once decide on anything, it’s final.

The Bride (to Bridegroom, without enthusiasm).  Would you like me to roll you a cigarette?

Bridegroom (with the frankness of an open nature).  Not if I know it.  I can do it better myself.