. What do you mean?

JOHN (_lightly_). Nothing. I thought editor and contributor--

HILDEGARDE. Oh! I see.

JOHN (_stopping at door, and turning round_). Do you mean to say your
uncles won't be frightfully angry at Mr. Sampson Straight's articles?
Why, dash it, when he's talking about traffic in honours, if he doesn't
mean them who does he mean?

TRANTO. My dear friend, stuff like that's meat and drink to my uncles.
They put it down like chocolates.

JOHN. Well my deliberate opinion is--it's a jolly strange world. (_Exit
quickly, back)_.

TRANTO (_looking at_ Hildegarde). So it is. Philosopher, John! Questions
rather pointed perhaps; but result in the discovery of new truths. By
the way, have I come too early?

HILDEGARDE (_archly)_. How could you? But father's controlling the
country half an hour more than usual this evening, and I expect mamma
was so angry about it she forgot to telephone you that dinner's moved
accordingly. (_With piquancy and humour_.) I was rather surprised to
hear when I got home from my Ministry that you'd sent word you'd like to
dine to-night.

TRANTO. Were you? Why?

HILDEGARDE. Because last week when mamma _asked_ you for to-night, you
said you had another engagement.

TRANTO. Oh! I'd forgotten I'd told her that. Still, I really had
another engagement.

HILDEGARDE. The Countess of Blackfriars--you said.

TRANTO. Yes. Auntie Joe's. I've just sent her a telephone message to say
I'm ill and confined to the house.

HILDEGARDE. Which house?

TRANTO. I didn't specify any particular house.

HILDEGARDE. And are you ill?

TRANTO. I am not.... To get back to the realm of fact, when I read
Sampson Straight's article about the degradation of honours this
afternoon--

HILDEGARDE. Didn't you read it before you published it?

TRANTO. No. I had to rush off and confront the Medical Board at 9 a.m. I
felt certain the article would be all right.

HILDEGARDE. And it wasn't all right.

TRANTO (_positively_). Perfectly all right.

HILDEGARDE. You don't seem quite sure. Are we still in the realm of
fact, or are we slipping over the frontier?

TRANTO. The article was perfectly all right. It rattled off from
beginning to end like a machine-gun, and must have caused enormous
casualties. Only I thought Auntie Joe might be one of the casualties. I
thought it might put her out of action as a hostess for a week or so.
You see, for me to publish such an onslaught on new titles in the
afternoon