'Dinner is served, madam.' RICHARDSON, who will probably be a great duchess some day, 'I don't mind if I does have a snack.' She places herself at the table after what she conceives to be the manner of the genteelly gluttonous; then she quakes a little. 'If Missis was to catch me.' She knows that Missis is probably sitting downstairs with her arms folded, hopeful of the chop for herself. STEVE. 'You tuck in and I'll keep watch.' He goes to the door to peer over the banisters; it is all part of the game. Richardson promptly tucks in with horrid relish. RICHARDSON. 'What makes you so good to me, sir?' STEVE. 'A gentleman is always good to a lady.' RICHARDSON, preening, 'A lady? Go on.' STEVE. 'And when I found that at my dinner hour you were subject to growing pains I remembered my own youth. Potatoes, madam?' RICHARDSON, neatly, 'If quite convenient.' The kindly young man surveys her for some time in silence while she has various happy adventures. STEVE. 'Can I smoke, Richardson?' RICHARDSON. 'Of course you can smoke. I have often seen you smoking.' STEVE, little aware of what an evening the sex is to give him, 'But have I your permission?' RICHARDSON. 'You're at your tricks again.' STEVE, severely, 'Have you forgotten already how I told you a true lady would answer?' RICHARDSON. 'I minds, but it makes me that shy.' She has, however, a try at it. 'Do smoke, Mr. Rollo, I loves the smell of it.' Steve lights his pipe; no real villain smokes a pipe. STEVE. 'Smoking is a blessed companion to a lonely devil like myself.' RICHARDSON. 'Yes, sir.' Sharply, 'Would you say devil to a real lady, sir?'