MANAGER. Mr. Preston. I have maid pack your things up right away. You be comfortable in one fourteen. Mr. Preston you know better than call police into a hotel. What’s a first thing police say? Whosa cana milk belong to? Whosa corn beef belong to? Whosa hoards coffee in this hotel? Whatsa meaning all this sugar in the armoire? Whosa got three bottles of whiskey? Whatsa matter here? Mr. Preston never calla police in private matter. Mr. Preston, I appeal to you.

PHILIP. [From the bathroom] Whosa these three cakesa soap belong to?

MANAGER. You see, Mr. Preston? In a private matter public authority is giva always a wrong interpretation. Is a law against to have these things. Is a severe law against all forms of hoarding. Is a police misunderstand.

PHILIP. [From the bathroom] Whosa got three bottles eau de cologne in here?

MANAGER. You see, Mr. Preston? With all my good voluntaries I could not introduce police.

PRESTON. Oh, go to—hell then, both of you. Have the things moved into one fourteen then. You’re a rotten cad, Rawlings. Remember I told you, will you?

PHILIP. [From the bathroom] Whosa four tubes Mennen’s shaving cream belong to?

MANAGER. Mister Preston. Four tubes. Mister Presston.

PRESTON. All you do is beg for food. I’ve given you plenty. Pack up the things and have them moved.

MANAGER. Very good, Mister Preston, but only one thing. When against all my voluntaries initiate slight petition for food only wishing superating quantities——

PHILIP. [From bathroom, choking with laughing] What’s that?

MANAGER. Am telling Mr. Preston only petition unnecessary amounts and then only on basis of seven in family. Listen, Mr. Preston, has my mother-in-law—that luxury—now in her head one tooth remaining. You understand. Only one tooth. With this eats all and enjoys. When this goes must I buy entire apparatus of teeth both higher and lower, and is fit for eating higher things. Is fit for the beefsteak, is fit for the chops, is fit for the what you call it, the salomillo. Every night I tell you, Mr. Preston, I ask her how is the tooth old woman? Every night I think if that goes where are we? Given entire new up and down teeth would not be enough horses left in Madrid for the army. I tell you, Mr. Preston, you never saw such a woman. Such a luxury. Mr. Preston, you unable spare one small can of any sort that superates?

PRESTON. Get something from Rawlings. He’s your friend.

PHILIP. [Coming out of the bathroom] With me Comrade Stamp Collector superates one can of bully beef.

MANAGER. Oh, Mr. Philip. You have heart bigger than the hotel.

PRESTON. And twice as dirty.

[He goes out]

PHILIP. He’s very bitter.

MANAGER. You take away the young lady. Makes him furious. Fills him with, how you call, jellishness.