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PHILIP.
t.i.tterton, my new publisher, is tremendously taken with the scheme of the thing--keen as mustard about it.
ROOPE.
Er--pardon me, Phil----
PHILIP.
Eh?
ROOPE.
[_Fingering the lapel of_ PHILIP's _coat._] I say, old man, you wouldn't be guilty of the deplorably bad taste of putting _me_ into it, would you?
PHILIP.
[_Slapping him on the back._] Ha, ha! My dear Robbie, half the polite world is in it. Don't tell me you wish to be left out in the cold!
ROOPE.
[_Thoroughly alarmed._] Dear excellent friend----!
[NOYES _enters again at the door on the left, preceding_ COLLINGHAM GREEN.
NOYES.
[_Announcing_ GREEN, _and then retiring._] Mr. Collingham Green.
GREEN.
[_A gaily-dressed, genial soul, with a flower in his b.u.t.ton-hole, a monocle, a waxed moustache, and a skilful arrangement of a spa.r.s.e head of hair--shaking hands with_ ROOPE.] How are you, my deah fellow?
ROOPE.
My dear Colly, delighted to see you.
GREEN.
An awful scramble to get heah. I was afraid I shouldn't be able to manage it.
ROOPE.
You'd have broken our hearts if you hadn't. You know Mackworth?
GREEN.
_And_ his charming works. [_Shaking hands with_ PHILIP.] Haven't met you for evah so long.
PHILIP.
How d'ye do?
GREEN.
Ouf! I must sit down. [_Sitting on the fauteuil-stool and taking off a pair of delicately tinted gloves._] The Season is killing me. I'm shaw I sha'n't last till Goodwood, Robbie.
ROOPE.
Yes, it's a shockin' rush, isn't it!
GREEN.
Haw! You only _fancy_ you're rushed. Your life is a rest-cure compared with mine. You've no conception, either of you, what my days are just now.
PHILIP.
[_Finding himself addressed._] Exhausting, no doubt.
GREEN.
Take to-day, for example. I was in my bath at half-past-seven----
ROOPE.
Half-past-seven!
GREEN.
Though I wasn't in bed till two this morning. At eight I had a cup of coffee and a piece of dry toast, and skimmed the papers. From eight-thirty till ten I dictated a special article on our modern English hostesses--"The Hostesses of England: Is Hospitality Declining?", a question I answer in the negative----
ROOPE.
[_In a murmur._] Quite right.
GREEN.
At ten o'clock, a man from Clapp and Beazley's with some patterns of socks and underwear. Disposed of _him_, dressed, and by a quarter-to-eleven I was in the Park. Strolled up and down with Lady Ventnor and Sir Hill Birch and saw everybody there was to be seen. I nevah make a single note; my memory's marvellous. Left the Park at twelve and took a taxi to inquire after Lord Harrogate, Charlie Sievewright, and old Lady Dorcas Newnham. I'm not boring you?
ROOPE.
Boring us!
GREEN.
Lady Dorcas caught sight of me from her window and hailed me in. I sat with her for twenty minutes--"Greenie" she always calls me--[_mimicking_]
"Now, Greenie, what's the noos?" Haw, haw, haw! I walked away from Lady Dorcas's, and was in Upper Grosvenor Street punctually at one. [_To_ ROOPE.] There's been a meeting at the Baroness Van der Meer's to-day, you know, over this fete at the Albert Hall.
