[_Drily._] I found it wasn't necessary. How are you, Professor? [_With the air of a host._] Delighted to see you. PROFESSOR FUTVOYE. [_Shaking hands perfunctorily._] Oh, how are you, my boy, how are you? [_Turning his shoulder on PRINGLE, and continuing to MR. WACKERBATH, as they go up together towards the table, ignoring PRINGLE.] Wackerbath, about this house of yours?--do I understand that Ventimore is----? [_They talk in dumb show, and during the next few speeches the FIRST WAITER enters, and MR. WACKERBATH gives him an order, after which the WAITER goes out and returns with two cocktails. The PROFESSOR sits by the table and MR. WACKERBATH stands as they drink. PRINGLE meanwhile has returned to the corner of the flower-stand and is no longer able to control his temper._ PRINGLE. [_To SYLVIA, with elaborate sarcasm, as he offers his hand, which she does not see at first._] Good evening, Miss Sylvia, it's really about time that I reminded you of _my_ humble existence. SYLVIA. [_With slightly raised eyebrows, as she shakes hands._] Oh, how do you do, Mr. Pringle? I didn't see you come in. [_HORACE sits by in silence, feeling powerless to stop PRINGLE at present._ PRINGLE. [_Unpleasantly._] No, you were so much engaged. [_In a tone of injury._] And I must say I little expected when I last saw you at Cottesmore Gardens--scarcely seven hours ago----! SYLVIA. [_Smiling, but surprised._] Seven _hours_! It is more like seven _weeks_! PRINGLE. [_Beaming fatuously._] Charming of you to put it in that way! I was almost beginning to fear that you had forgotten--[_with meaning_]--our last meeting. SYLVIA. [_Innocently._] In Vincent Square yesterday afternoon? Of course not. _I_ meant since you had been to see _us_. And that's _ages_ ago! PRINGLE. [_Blankly._] Ages ago! SYLVIA. [_Carelessly._] Oh, you said you'd been away, or working hard, or something, didn't you? _I_ forgive you. And so _you_ are dining with Mr. and Mrs. Wackerbath, too? PRINGLE. [_Stiffly._] With Mr. and Mrs.----! Pardon me, but I am under the impression that _I_ am to have the honour of entertaining you. SYLVIA. [_Rising; HORACE rising as she does._] Entertaining _us_! Why, what _could_ have made you think that? PRINGLE. [_In a low voice._] And you can throw me over like this! After all I've done for you? Oh, _Sylvia_! SYLVIA. [_Coldly._] I don't understand you a bit this evening, Mr. Pringle. But there may have been some mistake. I will go and ask mother about it.