“I think it exceedingly bad form,” observed the fishy-eyed gentleman, in deep contralto tones, “for any gentleman to take it upon himself to reply to a remark addressed to quite another gentleman.” “I beg your pardon,” retorted the large gentleman. “I thought you were asleep.” “I think it very ill manners,” remarked the small gentlemen in the same slow and impressive tones, “for any gentleman to tell another gentleman, who happens to be wide awake, that he thought he was asleep.” “Sir,” returned the massive gentleman, assuming with the help of a large umbrella a quite Johnsonian attitude, “I decline to alter my manners to suit your taste.” “If you are satisfied with them,” replied the small gentleman, “I cannot help it. But I think you are making a mistake.” “Does anybody know what the opera is about?” asked a bright little woman at the other end of the room. “Does anybody ever know what a comic opera is about?” asked another lady, whose appearance suggested experience. “I once asked the author,” observed a weary-looking gentleman, speaking from a corner. “His reply was: 'Well, if you had asked me at the beginning of the rehearsals I might have been able to tell you, but damned if I could now!'” “It wouldn't surprise me,” observed a good-looking gentleman in a velvet coat, “if there occurred somewhere in the proceedings a drinking chorus for male voices.” “Possibly, if we are good,” added a thin lady with golden hair, “the heroine will confide to us her love troubles, which will interest us and excite us.” The door at the further end of the room opened and a name was called. An elderly lady rose and went out. “Poor old Gertie!” remarked sympathetically the thin lady with the golden hair. “I'm told that she really had a voice once.” “When poor young Bond first came to London,” said the massive gentleman who was sitting on my left, “I remember his telling me he applied to Lord Barrymore's 'tiger,' Alexander Lee, I mean, of course, who was then running the Strand Theatre, for a place in the chorus. Lee heard him sing two lines, and then jumped up. 'Thanks, that'll do; good morning,' says Lee. Bond knew he had got a good voice, so he asked Lee what was wrong. 'What's wrong?' shouts Lee. 'Do you think I hire a chorus to show up my principals?'” “Having regard to the company present,” commented the fishy-eyed gentleman, “I consider that anecdote as distinctly lacking in tact.” The feeling of the company appeared to be with the fish-eyed young man. For the next half hour the door at the further end of the room continued to open and close, devouring, ogre-fashion, each time some dainty human morsel, now chorus gentleman, now chorus lady. Conversation among our thinning ranks became more fitful, a growing anxiety making for silence.