Poulder.  We will all go, Miss.

L. Anne. [Rushing out from behind his legs] No—­me!

     [She eludes miss Stokes and vanishes, followed by that
     distracted but still well-mannered lady.]

Poulder. [Looking at his watch] ’Enry, leave the cooler, and take up the wine; tell Thomas to lay it out; get the champagne into ice, and ’ave Charles ’andy in the ’all in case some literary bounder comes punctual.

     [Henry takes up the wine and goes.]

Press. [Above his head] I say, let me down.  This is a bit undignified, you know.  My paper’s a great organ.

Poulder. [After a moment’s hesitation] Well—­take ’im down, James; he’ll do some mischief among the bottles.

James.  ’Op off your base, and trust to me.

     [The, press slides off the bin’s edge, is received by James, and
     not landed gently.]

Poulder. [Contemplating him] The incident’s closed; no ill-feeling, I hope?

Press.  No-o.

Poulder.  That’s right. [Clearing his throat] While we’re waitin’ for Lord William—­if you’re interested in wine—­[Philosophically] you can read the history of the times in this cellar.  Take ’ock:  [He points to a bin] Not a bottle gone.  German product, of course.  Now, that ’ock is ’sa ‘avin’ the time of its life—­maturin’ grandly; got a wonderful chance.  About the time we’re bringin’ ourselves to drink it, we shall be havin’ the next great war.  With luck that ’ock may lie there another quarter of a century, and a sweet pretty wine it’ll be.  I only hope I may be here to drink it.  Ah! [He shakes his head]—­but look at claret!  Times are hard on claret.  We’re givin’ it an awful doin’.  Now, there’s a Ponty Canny [He points to a bin]- if we weren’t so ’opelessly allied with France, that wine would have a reasonable future.  As it is—­none!  We drink it up and up; not more than sixty dozen left.  And where’s its equal to come from for a dinner wine—­ah!  I ask you?  On the other hand, port is steady; made in a little country, all but the cobwebs and the old boot flavour; guaranteed by the British Nary; we may ’ope for the best with port.  Do you drink it?

Press.  When I get the chance.

Poulder.  Ah! [Clears his throat] I’ve often wanted to ask:  What do they pay you—­if it’s not indelicate?

[The press shrugs his shoulders.]

Can you do it at the money?

[The press shakes his head.] Still—­it’s an easy life!  I’ve regretted sometimes that I didn’t have a shot at it myself; influencin’ other people without disclosin’ your identity—­something very attractive about that. [Lowering his voice] Between man and man, now-what do you think of the situation of the country—­these processions of the unemployed—­the Red Flag an’ the Marsillaisy in the streets—­all this talk about an upheaval?