any. I need a white cap. Nothing else. [A brief pause.]
Oscar—Belts?
Nervous Gentleman—No.
Oscar—[With a furtive glance at Philip.] Bathrobes? [The Nervous Gentleman shakes his head.] White gaiters?
Nervous Gentleman—[Sharply.] Thank you, no! [Rises.] I asked for a white cap. [A brief pause.]
Oscar—Nice walking stick?
Nervous Gentleman—[Crossly.] No . . . A cap is what I asked for.
Oscar—[Offended.] It will be here right away. [Crosses to the table down left, takes a stick from the rack which stands there, flourishes it.] This is a very unusual stick, sir.
Nervous Gentleman—I said I didn't want one.
Oscar—Yes, sir. [He flourishes the stick, demonstrating its lightness. The Nervous Gentleman sullenly watches him balancing it, bending it, testing its suppleness.]
Nervous Gentleman—Let me see.
Oscar—[Gives it to him.] Light as a feather.
Nervous Gentleman—[Balances and bends it.] I don't need it. [Returns it to Oscar.] I have more sticks now than I can use.
Oscar—Just as you say, sir. [Juhasz re-enters with the cap.]
