[_Laying the cloth with the aid of the waiter._] Yes, sir; while you were dozing. [_Ecstatically._] They're lovely, sir. [_A bell rings in the vestibule._] Expect that's the cook, sir. [_He bustles into the vestibule from the dining-room. There is a short pause and then he reappears, entering the study at the door opening from the vestibule, followed by_ ROOPE.] It's Mr. Roope, sir! PHILIP. No! [_Throwing his book aside and jumping up._] Why, Robbie! ROOPE. [_As they shake hands vigorously._] My dear fellow! PHILIP. Return of the wanderer! When did you get back? ROOPE. Last night. PHILIP. Take your coat off, you old ruffian. [_Putting his pipe down._] I _am_ glad. ROOPE. [_To_ JOHN, _who relieves him of his hat, overcoat, and neckerchief._] How are _you_, John? JOHN. Splendid, Mr. Roope. [_Beaming._] Our new novel is _sech_ a success, sir. PHILIP. Ha, ha, ha, ha! ROOPE. [_To_ JOHN.] So Mr. Mackworth wrote and told me. [_Giving his gloves to_ JOHN.] Congratulate you, John. JOHN. [_Depositing the hat, coat, etc., upon the settee on the left._] Thank you, sir. ROOPE. [_Crossing to the fireplace, rubbing his hands, as_ JOHN _retires to the dining-room._] Oh, my dear Phil, this dreadful climate after the sunshine of the Lago Maggiore! PHILIP. [_Walking about and spouting, in high spirits._] "Italia! O Italia! thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty----!" ROOPE. Sir Loftus and Lady Glazebrook were moving on to Rome, or I really believe I could have endured another month at their villa, bores as they are, dear kind souls! [_Looking towards the dining-room, where_ JOHN _and the waiter are now placing a handsome centre-piece of flowers upon the round table._] Hallo! A dinner-party, Phil? PHILIP. Dinner-party? A banquet! ROOPE. To celebrate the success of the book? PHILIP. That and something more. This festival, sir, of the preparations for which you are a privileged spectator--[_shouting to_ JOHN] shut those doors, John---- JOHN. Yessir. PHILIP. [_Sitting in the chair on the left of the smoking-table as_ JOHN _closes the big doors._] This festival, my dear Robbie--[_glancing over his shoulder to assure himself that the doors are closed_] this festival also celebrates my formal engagement to Madame de Chaumie. ROOPE. [_Triumphantly._] Aha! PHILIP.