And--you'll hardly believe it, Mr. Pringle,--but, the moment the lecture was over, he hurried us off here to find out what Mr. Ventimore had got for him! It's really too ridiculous! As if his study wasn't littered up quite enough already! PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. Women, my dear Pringle, can't understand the feelings of a collector. It's not _every_ day, I can tell you, that a collection of such importance comes into the market. PRINGLE. I didn't know Ventimore was an expert in such things. I thought you could get brokers to bid for you. PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. Of course--of course. But I don't trust brokers--they know too much! And, as I gave Ventimore my own catalogue, with a tick against the lots I want and the limit I'm prepared to go, noted on the margin, he _can't_ make any mistake. PRINGLE. I suppose not. That is, if he's _accustomed_ to auctions. PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. What do you mean? PRINGLE. Only that if you _aren't_, there's always a liability to lose your head in the excitement, and go beyond the margin. But I daresay Ventimore wouldn't do _that_. PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. If he _has_! [_He rises excitedly._] And he might--he _might_! With his recklessness about money, it's the very thing he _would_ do! Letting me in for prices I can't afford! [_Passionately._] No wonder he is in no hurry to show himself--no wonder! MRS. FUTVOYE. [_Rising and attempting to pacify him._] Now, Anthony, there's nothing to work yourself up into a state for, at present. Do for goodness' sake wait till you hear all about it! PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. [_Resentfully._] It seems I shall _have_ to wait, Sophia--but I'm tired of waiting _here_. [_He goes to get his hat and stick._] And evidently he doesn't intend to---- [_Turns, as the door opens and HORACE VENTIMORE comes in briskly. HORACE is a pleasant-looking young man, with a cheery and rather boyish manner; he comes down and greets the FUTVOYES without seeing PRINGLE for the moment; SYLVIA has risen, delighted at his arrival._ HORACE. I _say_! This is jolly! [_Shaking hands._] Wish I'd known you were coming on here after the lecture. [_PRINGLE rises, and waits stiffly for recognition._] Warm work, wasn't it, Professor, lecturing on an afternoon like this? Do sit down. [_Looks at table._] Haven't they given you any tea? PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. [_Irritably._] No, no, no. We want no tea. It's too late for tea. We merely looked in on our way home to---- HORACE. [_Sees PRINGLE._] And Pringle, too! [_Pats him on shoulder._] How are you, old fellow? You been at the lecture, too? PRINGLE. [_With implied rebuke._] No, I've only just come round--as you weren't at the office,--to---- HORACE. I've been engaged all day. Oh, by the bye, do you know Professor and Mrs.---- [_Is about to introduce him._