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[_As they go to the right-hand door at the back._] Unfair?
LILY.
To the others. I can't think what made me so thoughtless.
[_They disappear. Two of the waiters carry out the soiled gla.s.ses, etc.; another follows with the ices, and the bearded waiter with the strawberries-and-cream. After a while, LUIGI also withdraws._
ENID.
[_Leaving the counter with VON RETTENMAYER._] Well, what did you say to him?
VON RETTENMAYER.
I told him the biece wants lifding in the zecond aggd and that he ought to gif you anoder dance.
ENID.
[_On the right._] What did _he_ say?
VON RETTENMAYER.
He will think it over!
ENID.
[_Scornfully._] Ha! That's Smythe's invariable formula, cunning old fox!
VON RETTENMAYER.
But we are to dalk aboud it lader. I am waiding to ged him alone.
ENID.
Pff! _You_ won't get him alone, you stupid; _he'll_ take precious good care of that. [_Finding that LUIGI and the waiters have departed, and walking across to the left._] Ah, but it isn't dancing my mind's dwelling on just now, dear boy.
VON RETTENMAYER.
[_Following her._] Nod?
ENID.
It's rest I'm yearning for-- my holiday!-- rest for my weary bones.
[_Turning to him without a sign of disturbance._] Karl, I'm simply bursting with rage.
VON RETTENMAYER.
Rage?
ENID.
That wretched hotel at Ostend-- the Plage! They've the confounded impudence to ask me a hundred-and-twenty-five francs a day for two cubby-holes on the third floor, for my aunt and me.
VON RETTENMAYER.
Monsdrous. [_With a shrug._] But Ostend is-- Ostend.
ENID.
Thanks for the information. Is that all the sympathy you can offer?
VON RETTENMAYER.
Bardon. [_Humbly._] There may be gheaper hodels.
ENID.
Where the common people pay for their beds and meals with Cook's coupons! [_Sitting upon the arm of the further settee in the centre and swinging her feet._] Oh, it doesn't matter. I suppose it'll have to be Swanage, or some brisk resort of that description. [_Sighing._]
So be it! [_Humming._] Tra, lal, lal, la----!
VON RETTENMAYER.
[_Sitting on the nearer settee in the centre, close to her, with an anxious expression._] A hundred-and-twendy-five frangks a day?
ENID.
Including nothing-- absolutely nothing!
VON RETTENMAYER.
[_Biting his nails._] Prezisely! There's the eading and dringking.
ENID.
One can't starve, that's certain.
VON RETTENMAYER.
Which would amound to----?
ENID.
[_Watching him out of the corner of her eye._] I believe aunt and I could manage to feed ourselves on forty francs a day-- or fifty-- at a pinch.
VON RETTENMAYER.
[_His face growing longer and longer._] A hundred-and-twendy-five-- and fifdy----
ENID.
