ief.

MRS. STIDULPH.

[_To VON RETTENMAYER, confidentially._] Of course, this is strictly
between ourselves-- though I almost hinted as much to Smythe-- but the
fact is the Pandora isn't in the least what it _was_, Karl.

VON RETTENMAYER.

Noding is what it was, my dear Dolly, and nobody.

MRS. STIDULPH.

[_Fanning herself._] I suppose he can't find the artists; _that's_ it.
If you don't have the artists--! [_Shutting up her fan._] You
recollect my "Polly Taggart" in _The Merry Milliner_?

VON RETTENMAYER.

[_Stifling a yawn._] Gharming; gharming.

[_FARNCOMBE is bending over LILY while she is eating her ice and they
are talking lightly but intently. GABRIELLE, finding that she is "out
of it," rises with a pout and, carrying her plate, joins the ladies
and men who are at the fireplace. BLAND enters with JIMMIE at the door
on the left._

MRS. STIDULPH.

[_To VON RETTENMAYER._] I hate blowing my own trumpet, but I was
looking through my press-cuttings only yesterday. _I've_ never seen
such notices as I had for "Polly Taggart."

VON RETTENMAYER.

[_Closing his eyes._] Vavourable?

MRS. STIDULPH.

Favourable! They make me blush to read them. Stupid of me; but they
make me blush, positively.

[_JIMMIE comes to LILY, BLAND following her. On her way she sees the
handkerchief and powder-puff lying upon the floor._

JIMMIE.

Why, _there_ it is! [_Picking up the handkerchief and puff, and
rubbing the puff, which is an extremely ragged one, over her nose--
singing sentimentally._] "There are no friends like the old friends,
The constant, tried, and true;--" [_Sitting beside LILY._] Room for a
little 'un?

[_LILY, without interrupting her talk with FARNCOMBE, lays her hand on
JIMMIE'S for a moment._

BLAND.

[_To JIMMIE._] Bring you anything?

JIMMIE.

[_Wrapping the puff in the handkerchief tenderly and slipping it into
her bosom._] A liqueur of petrol and a lucifer-match.

BLAND.

[_Leaving her._] Oh, go on!

MRS. STIDULPH.

[_To VON RETTENMAYER._] And then to give it all up, as I was idiot
enough to do when I married, and for a life as dull as ditch-water! If
ever a woman sacrificed herself in this world----!

[_FULKERSON and DAPHNE enter at the door on the left and hurry to the
counter._

FULKERSON.

[_Boisterously._] Time! Time! [_To those standing at the counter._]
'Low me. 'Low me. [_To LUIGI._] Glass o' lemonade and a
whiskey-and-soda. Quick with the whiske