(Smallweed raises paper so that it is between him and Edith) who looks round to ·Wilmot. The latter kisses his hand to her; nearly caught in the act by Smallweed. Edith shakes her head. Comic business with paper.)
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Smallweed (sentimentally).—I could hold it up forever for you to study.
Edith (looking at Wilmot tenderly).—You really like to be here?
Wilmot (Aside: A new version of Phyramus and Thisbe, by Jove!) (He makes a gesture in reply).—
Smallweed.—Oh, so much! I ought to be in cutcherry; but so long as you take an interest in antiquities, it is hard to stick to the desk.
Edith (looking at Wilmot).—Do you really think I ought to go?
(Wilmot shakes his head emphatically.)
Smallweed,—Oh! do come; it's such a lovely inscription only look at this bull,—the Vahan of Shiva.
Edith.—More like a donkey; isn't it?
Wilmot (aside, Very much more, I should think.)
Smallweed (sternly).—Did you speak, sir? (Aside: I don't half like that fellow!)
Wilmot.—Me, sir? No, sir!
Smallweed (folding up paper).—Well, now you've had your breakfast, you'd better clear out.
Wilmot.—Beg your pardon, sir; I'm in custody.
Smallweed.—Qui hai! We'll send for Nubbee Baksh and get rid of that fellow—(looking at Wilmot contemptuously),—for
