Louis [pulling on his gloves behind Ridgeon’s chair] Now, Jinny-Gwinny:  the motor has come round.

Ridgeon.  Why do you let him spoil your beautiful name like that, Mrs Dubedat?

Mrs Dubedat.  Oh, on grand occasions I am Jennifer.

B. B. You are a bachelor:  you do not understand these things, Ridgeon.  Look at me [They look].  I also have two names.  In moments of domestic worry, I am simple Ralph.  When the sun shines in the home, I am Beedle-Deedle-Dumkins.  Such is married life!  Mr Dubedat:  may I ask you to do me a favor before you go.  Will you sign your name to this menu card, under the sketch you have made of me?

Walpole.  Yes; and mine too, if you will be so good.

Louis.  Certainly. [He sits down and signs the cards].

Mrs Dubedat.  Wont you sign Dr Schutzmacher’s for him, Louis?

Louis.  I dont think Dr Schutzmacher is pleased with his portrait.  I’ll tear it up. [He reaches across the table for Schutzmacher’s menu card, and is about to tear it.  Schutzmacher makes no sign].

Ridgeon.  No, no:  if Loony doesnt want it, I do.

Louis.  I’ll sign it for you with pleasure. [He signs and hands it to Ridgeon].  Ive just been making a little note of the river to-night:  it will work up into something good [he shews a pocket sketch-book].  I think I’ll call it the Silver Danube.

B. B. Ah, charming, charming.

Walpole.  Very sweet.  Youre a nailer at pastel.

Louis coughs, first out of modesty, then from tuberculosis.

Sir Patrick.  Now then, Mr Dubedat:  youve had enough of the night air.  Take him home, maam.

Mrs Dubedat.  Yes.  Come, Louis.

Ridgeon.  Never fear.  Never mind.  I’ll make that cough all right.

B. B. We will stimulate the phagocytes. [With tender effusion, shaking her hand] Good-night, Mrs Dubedat.  Good-night.  Good-night.

Walpole.  If the phagocytes fail, come to me.  I’ll put you right.

Louis.  Good-night, Sir Patrick.  Happy to have met you.

Sir Patrick.  Night [half a grunt].

Mrs Dubedat.  Good-night, Sir Patrick.

Sir Patrick.  Cover yourself well up.  Dont think your lungs are made of iron because theyre better than his.  Good-night.

Mrs Dubedat.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Nothing hurts me.  Good-night.

Louis goes out through the hotel without noticing Schutzmacher.  Mrs Dubedat hesitates, then bows to him.  Schutzmacher rises and bows formally, German fashion.  She goes out, attended by Ridgeon.  The rest resume their seats, ruminating or smoking quietly.

B. B. [harmoniously] Dee-lightful couple!  Charming woman!  Gifted lad!  Remarkable talent!  Graceful outlines!  Perfect evening!  Great success!  Interesting case!  Glorious night!  Exquisite scenery!  Capital dinner!  Stimulating conversation!  Restful outing!  Good wine!  Happy ending!  Touching gratitude!  Lucky Ridgeon—­