ing._] Sometimes I've an idea that if I had a
motor-car of my _own_ I should feel easier and happier.

DE CASTRO.

[_With a change of tone._] What d'ye mean-- motor-car of yer own?
Mine'th alwayth at your dithpothal, ithn't it?

GABRIELLE.

[_Shaking her head._] That's not the same thing. Whenever I have yours
out, I'm weighed down by a sense of borrowing.

DE CASTRO.

Well, if I gave you a new car, you'd be weighed down by a thenthe of
my havin' paid for it.

GABRIELLE.

At first I should, but not for long. Seeing my family crest on the
door-panels, instead of your monogram, 'ud help me to forget you'd had
anything to do with it. [_Gloomily._] Of course, it 'ud only be an
experiment. It might cheer me up, or it mightn't.

[_The music ceases. A waiter carrying a tray enters at the door on the
left, goes behind the counter, and mixes some drinks._

DE CASTRO.

[_After a pause, loosening his collar-- in a low voice._] Here! We'd
better dithcuth thith experiment. [_Glancing over his shoulder at the
waiter._] Let'th come and thit in the pit.

GABRIELLE.

[_Rising._] I can't argue; my head's too bad for that.

DE CASTRO.

[_Leading her to the double-door._] I don't want to argue; I thimply
want to arrive at an underthtandin'. Thuppothin' I buy you a car, am I
to be made an arth of at the nexth danthe we happen to meet at-- yeth
or no?----

[_They go out on to the landing and disappear as FULKERSON hurries in
at the right-hand door at the back. His eyes are rather glassy and his
utterance is a little thick._

FULKERSON.

[_To the waiter, joining him behind the counter._] Hi! Wake up, there!
Gla'sodawa'erf'misspirch'nth'stage. [_Distinctly._] Misspirch-- on
th'stage-- gla'-- sodawa'er. I'll have a whiskey. Wh'sthwhiskey?
Which-- is-- the-- whiskey? Than'g. [_Pouring some whiskey into a
tumbler._] You take sodaw'er t' Misspirch; I'll mix m'own whiskey.
Loo' sharp, sodaw'er Misspirch. [_The waiter goes out with the drinks
and FULKERSON, glass in hand, comes to the nearer side of the counter.
He swallows his drink greedily, singing to himself between the
gulps._] "Oh, the gals! Oh, the gals! I am awfully fond of the gals!
[_Putting his empty glass upon the counter and making for the door on
the left._] Be they ebon or blond, Of the gals I am fond; I am
_dreadfully_ fond of the gals!"

[_He vanishes as FARNCOMBE and LILY enter at the right-hand door at
the back. There is an air of constrai