Part 3 (1/2)

Come!

AUBREY.

Well!

DRUMMLE.

It so happens that to-night I was exceptionally early in dressing for dinner.

MISQUITH.

For which dinner--the fish and cutlet?

DRUMMLE.

For _this_ dinner, of course--really, Frank! At a quarter to eight, in fact, I found myself tr.i.m.m.i.n.g my nails, with ten minutes to spare. Just then enter my man with a note--would I hasten, as fast as cab could carry me, to old Lady Orreyed in Bruton Street?--”sad trouble.” Now, recollect, please, I had ten minutes on my hands, old Lady Orreyed was a very dear friend of my mother's, and was in some distress.

AUBREY.

Cayley, come to the fish and cutlet?

MISQUITH _and_ JAYNE.

Yes, yes, and the pancake!

DRUMMLE.

Upon my word! Well, the scene in Bruton Street beggars description; the women servants looked scared, the men drunk; and there was poor old Lady Orreyed on the floor of her boudoir like Queen Bess among her pillows.

AUBREY.

What's the matter?

DRUMMLE.

[_To everybody._] You know George Orreyed?

MISQUITH.

Yes.

JAYNE.

I've met him.

DRUMMLE.

Well, he's a thing of the past.

AUBREY.