Engaged! [_After a pause._] And how long have you been that? HORACE. Only since the day before yesterday. PRINGLE. [_Blankly._] Oh! [_He walks down to window._] I congratulate you; er--heartily, of course. [_Looking out of window._] And--and when do you think of being married? HORACE. It's no use thinking of that, at present. Not till the Professor takes a rosier view of my prospects, at all events. But if, like a good fellow, you could put in a word for me, it would give me no end of a leg up! PRINGLE. [_Dully, with his face still averted._] You don't seem to realise what you're asking! HORACE. [_Suddenly understanding, with compunction._] My _dear_ chap! [_He puts both his hands on PRINGLE'S shoulders._] What a selfish brute I've been not to see! I _am_ sorry! PRINGLE. [_Stiffly._] As a matter of fact, I'd quite made up my mind to propose to her--as soon as I'd got those country jobs off my mind. And now I find _you_'ve cut in before me! HORACE. Well, it's straight of you to tell me. I suppose you'd rather come and dine some _other_ evening? If so---- PRINGLE. No. A promise is a promise. I'll come. Mind you, I don't pretend it won't be an effort--but I'll see what I can do for you. HORACE. [_Gratefully._] You _are_ a good chap, Pringle!--one of the best! Though, really, after what you've told me, I hardly like---- PRINGLE. Not another word. Anything I _can_ say on your behalf--without _too_ wide a departure from strict accuracy--I'll say with pleasure. [_Going up to door._] Eight o'clock's the hour, isn't it? All right. [_He goes out._] [_HORACE makes a movement towards the fireplace, as if to ring the bell. Then his eye is caught by the brass bottle, which is standing in the centre of the room. He stops, looks at his watch, and decides that he has time to open the bottle. He examines the cap on its neck, then goes to sideboard and takes from it a heavy paper-weight and a champagne-opener, returns to chair on right of table and sits, holding the bottle between his knees. Using the champagne-opener as a chisel, and the paper-weight as hammer, he proceeds to chip away the deposit round the cap, whistling an air from a musical comedy as he works._ HORACE. [_To himself._] I've _loosened_ it. [_He seizes the cap and tries to screw it off._] It's _giving_!