CULCH. If I nip over anywhere, I shall nip to Nuremberg. We may just as well understand one another, Podbury. If I'm to provide money for both of us, it's only reasonable that you should be content to go where _I_ choose. I cannot, and will not, stand these perpetual interferences with our original plan; it's sheer restlessness. Come with me to Nuremberg, and I shall be very happy to be your banker. Otherwise, you must stay here alone. [_He compresses his lips and crosses his legs._ PODB. Oh, _that's_ it, is it? But look here, why not tit up whether we go on or stay? CULCH. Why should I "tit up," as you call it, when I've already made up my mind to go? When I once decide on anything, it's final. THE BRIDE (_to Bridegroom, without enthusiasm_). Would you like me to roll you a cigarette? BRIDEGROOM (_with the frankness of an open nature_). Not if I know it. I can do it better myself. BRIDE (_coldly_). I see. [_Another silence, at the end of which she rises and walks slowly away, pausing at the gate to see whether he intends to follow. As he does not appear to have remarked her absence, she walks on._ PODB. (_to_ CULCH., _in an undertone_). I say, those two don't seem to hit it off exactly, eh? Seem sorry they came! You'll be glad to hear, old fellow, that we needn't separate after all. Just found my purse in my trouser-pocket! CULCH. Better luck than you deserve. Didn't I tell you you should have a special pocket for your money and coupons? Like this--see. (_He opens his coat_) With a buttoned flap, it stands to reason they _must_ be safe! [Illustration: "GOOD HEAVENS, IT--IT'S GONE!"] PODB. So long as you keep it buttoned, old chap,--which you don't seem to do! CULCH. (_annoyed_). Pshaw! The button is a trifle too--(_feels pocket, and turns pale_). Good Heavens, it--it's _gone_! PODB. The button? CULCH. (_patting himself all over with shaking hands_). Everything!--money, coupons, circular notes! They--they must have fallen out going up that infernal Niederwald. (_Angrily._) You _would_ insist on going! PODB. Phew! The whole bag of tricks gone! You're lucky if you get them again. Any number of tramps and beggars all the way up. Shouldn't have taken off your coat--very careless of you! (_He grins._) CULCH. It was so hot. I must go and inform the Police here--I may recover it yet. Anyway, we--we must push on to Nuremberg, and I'll telegraph home for money to be sent here. You can let me have enough to get on with? PODB. With all the pleasure in life, dear boy--on your own conditions, you know. I mean, if I pay the piper, I call the tune. Now, I don't cotton to Nuremberg somehow; I'd rather go straight on to Constance; we could get some rowing there. CULCH. (_pettishly_). Rowing be----(_recollecting his helplessness_). No; but just consider, my dear Podbury. I assure you you'll find Nuremberg a most delightful old place. You must see how bent I am on going there!