re is Anne?

PRESS. Miss Stokes, as a lady----!

MISS S. I shall go and fetch Lord William!

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