RIDGEON. Come now, Sir Paddy, no growling. Have something more to drink.
WALPOLE. Do you see anything wrong with Dubedat, B. B.?
B. B. Oh, a charming young fellow. Besides, after all, what could be wrong with him? Look at him. What could be wrong with him?
SIR PATRICK. There are two things that can be wrong with any man. One of them is a cheque. The other is a woman. Until you know that a man's sound on these two points, you know nothing about him.
WALPOLE. He's all right as to the cheque, for a while at all events. He talked to me quite frankly before dinner as to the pressure of money difficulties on an artist. He says he has no vices and is very economical, but that theres one extravagance he cant afford and yet cant resist; and that is dressing his wife prettily. So I said, bang plump out, "Let me lend you twenty pounds, and pay me when your ship comes home." He was really very nice about it. He took it like a man; and it was a pleasure to see how happy it made him, poor chap.
B. B. [who has listened to Walpole with growing perturbation] But--but--but--when was this, may I ask?
WALPOLE. When I joined you that time down by the river.
B. B. But, my dear Walpole, he had just borrowed ten pounds from me.
B. B. [indulgently] Well, well, it was really hardly borrowing; for he said heaven only knew when he could pay me. I couldnt refuse. It appears that Mrs Dubedat has taken a sort of fancy to me--
B. B. Certainly not. Your name was never mentioned between us. He is so wrapped up in his work that he has to leave her a good deal alone; and the poor innocent young fellow--he has of course no idea of my position or how busy I am--actually wanted me to call occasionally and talk to her.
B. B. Pooh! Pooh pooh! Really, I must say. [Much disturbed, he rises and goes up to the balustrade, contemplating the landscape vexedly].
WALPOLE. Look here, Ridgeon! this is beginning to look serious.
Blenkinsop, very anxious and wretched, but trying to look unconcerned, comes back.
BLENKINSOP. No. Excuse my running away like that. [He sits down at the foot of the table, next Bloomfeld Bonington's chair].
BLENKINSOP. Oh no. A trifle--something ridiculous. It cant be helped. Never mind.
BLENKINSOP [almost breaking down] I ought to keep it to myself, I know. I cant tell you, Ridgeon, how ashamed I am of dragging my miserable poverty to your dinner after all your kindness. It's not that you wont ask me again; but it's so humiliating. And I did so look forward to one evening in my dress clothes (THEYRE still presentable, you see) with all my troubles left behind, just like old times.