[_He showers cards, commending somebody's self-adjusting trousers
amongst the Audience, each person receiving about two dozen--chiefly
in the eye--until the air is dark, and the floor thick with them._
_The M. in E.D. (much annoyed_). Infernal liberty! Confounded
impudence! Shouldn't have had _my_ hat if I 'd known he was going to
play the fool with it like this!
_First Lady in Plush Cloak_. But I thought you knew what was coming?
_The M. in E.D_. So I did--but this fellow does it differently.
[Herr VON K. _is preparing to fire a marked half-crown from a
blunderbuss into a crystal casket_.
_A Lady with Nerves (to her husband_). JOHN, I'm _sure_ he's going to
let that thing off!
_John (a Brute_). Well, I shouldn't be surprised if he is. _I_ can't
help it.
_The L. with N_. You could if you liked--you could tell him my nerves
won't stand it--the trick will be every _bit_ as good if he only
_pretends_ to fire, I'm sure.
_John_. Oh, nonsense!--you can stand it very well if you _like_.
_The L. w. N_. I _can't_, John.... There, he's raising it to his
shoulder.
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