er-to-two. I asked you for half-past-one because I
want to have a quiet little jaw with you beforehand.

PHILIP.

Delightful.

ROOPE.

Er--I'd better tell you at once, old chap, whom you'll meet here
to-day.

PHILIP.

Aha! Your tone presages a most distinguished guest. [_Seating himself
in the chair by the small table._] Is she a _grande-duchesse_, or is he
a crowned head?

ROOPE.

[_Smiling rather uneasily._] Wait. I work up to my great effect by
degrees. We shall only be six. Collingham Green----

PHILIP.

[_In disgust._] Oh, lord!

ROOPE.

Now, Phil, don't be naughty.

PHILIP.

The fellow who does the Society gossip for the _Planet_!

ROOPE.

And does it remarkably neatly, in my opinion.

PHILIP.

Pouah! [_Leaning back in his chair, his legs outstretched, and
spouting._] "Mrs. Trevelyan Potter, wearing a gown of yellow charmeuse
exquisitely draped with chiffon, gave a dance for her niece Miss
Hermione Stubbs at the Ritz Hotel last night." That sort o' stuff!

ROOPE.

[_Pained._] _Somebody_ has to supply it.

PHILIP.

"Pretty Mrs. Claud Grymes came on from the opera in her pearls, and
Lady Beakly looked younger than her daughter in blue."

ROOPE.

[_Ruefully._] You don't grow a bit more reasonable, Phil; not a bit.

PHILIP.

I beg pardon. Go ahead.

ROOPE.

[_Sitting on the fauteuil-stool._] Mrs. Godfrey Anslow and Mrs. Wally
Quebec. Abuse _them_.

PHILIP.

Bless their innocent hearts! _They'll_ be glad to meet Mr. Green.

ROOPE.

I trust so.

PHILIP.

[_Scowling._] A couple of pushing, advertising women.

ROOPE.

Really----!

PHILIP.

Ha, ha! Sorry. That's five, with you and me.

ROOPE.

That's five, as you justly observe. [_Clearing his throat._] H'm! H'm!

PHILIP.

The sixth? I prepare myself for your great effect.