Brandon (going down to fireplace and lighting cigarette). No. It’s my fault. You didn’t know that Granno and I behaved like that, did you, Rupert? But we often have outbursts, like this—and always about trifles, eh, Granno?
Granillo. Yes. (Drinking.)
Brandon. On this occasion it was a question of a case of Beethoven gramophone records, which poor old Granno couldn’t produce. I was chiding him for his remissness. The party’ll have to do without its Beethoven to-night.
Rupert. Well, it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good. What a queer thing to quarrel about.
Brandon. Yes. But we do quarrel about queer things nowadays, don’t we, Granno?
Granillo. We do.
Rupert (sitting down). Can I have another drink, please?
[Granillo does not hear.
Brandon. Granno.
Granillo, Yes. Whisky?
Rupert. Yes, please.
[Granillo pours it out for him and brings it over. His hand is trembling violently as he gives it to him, and this does not go by unobserved by Rupert.
Rupert. Can I have some soda?
Granillo. Oh. Sorry. (Goes back and pours soda into glass. Returns with it to Rupert.)
Rupert. Thank you. Ever so much. (Drinks. Pause.) Well, as a matter of fact, I’m in here on an errand.
Brandon. An errand?
Rupert. Yes. I want some rope.
Brandon and Granillo. Rope!
Rupert. Yes. Why so excited? Rope. The young people in the other room, having exhausted the lyric possibilities of the gramophone, are now projecting their entire youthful élan and ingenuity into the com-
[ 52 ]
