ask.

_Man_: Oh! But look here, I say! You must let me use that in my story.
Tell me all about it.

_Woman_: Not for worlds.

_Man_: He--he made up to you?

_Woman_: Rather!

_Priam Farll (to himself)_: What a barefaced lie! Never was at Ostend in
my life.

_Man_: Can't I use it if I don't print your name--just say a
distinguished actress.

_Woman_: Oh yes, you can do _that_. You might say, of the musical comedy
stage.

_Man_: I will. I'll run something together. Trust me. Thanks awfully.

At this point a young and emaciated priest passed up the room.

_Woman_: Oh! Father Luke, is that you? Do come and sit here and be nice.
This is Father Luke Widgery--Mr. Docksey, of the _Record_.

_Man_: Delighted.

_Priest_: Delighted.

_Woman_: Now, Father Luke, I've just _got_ to come to your sermon
to-morrow. What's it about?

_Priest_: Modern vice.

_Woman_: How charming! I read the last one--it was lovely.

_Priest_: Unless you have a ticket you'll never be able to get in.

_Woman_: But I must get in. I'll come to the vestry door, if there is a
vestry door at St. Bede's.

_Priest_: It's impossible. You've no idea of the crush. And I've no
favourites.

_Woman_: Oh yes, you have! You have me.

_Priest_: In my church, fashionable women must take their chance with
the rest.

_Woman_: How horrid you are.

_Priest_: Perhaps. I may tell you, Miss Cohenson, that I've seen two
duchesses standing at the back of the aisle of St. Bede's, and glad to
be.

_Woman_: But _I_ shan't flatter you by standing at the back of your
aisle, and you needn't think it. Haven't I given you a box before now?

_Priest_: I only accepted the box as a matter of duty; it is part of my
duty to go everywhere.

_Man_: Come with me, Miss Cohenson. I've got two tickets for the
_Record_.

_Woman_: Oh, so you do send seats to the press?

_Priest_: The press is different. Waiter, bring me half a bottle of
Heidsieck.

_Waiter_: Half a bottle of Heidsieck? Yes, sir.

_Woman_: Heidsieck. Well, I like that. _We're_ dieting.

_Priest: I_ don't like Heidsieck. But I'm dieting too. It's my doctor's
orders. Every night before retiring. It appears that my system needs it.
Maria Lady Rowndell insists on giving me a hundred a year to pay for it.
It is her own beautiful way of helping the good cause. Ice, please,
waiter. I've just been seeing her to-night. She's staying here for the
season. Saves her a lot of trouble. She's very much cut up