Algernon : Half-a-minute, Charlie, I must get a catalogue. We must do the thing properly.

I always look on a visit to the Academy as a kind of sacred rite, with its own rubrics and ceremonies. Here we are.

Charles : As a what? Oh, yes, of course. A bit out of my depth, though. Very solemn, isn’t it? But why do you want a catalogue?

Algernon {frowning slightly): Don’t talk so loud. You never know who’s here. We want a catalogue to know the name of the pictures and who did them. They’re all numbered, you know. Besides, people are talking about some of the pictures, and we ought to know all about them.

Charles : Bit stuffy in here? Reminds me of Madame Tussaud’s. Lots of figures standing about looking serious. All got catalogues, too. I say. What about putting that one in your pocket and trying to find out what the pictures are about without it? Good

fun. Then we can check them after and see how many winners we’ve got. No? But look here. We’re not supposed to like what other folk like, are we? Not bound to, I mean. I know I shan’t. Where’s that picture of Stexe, and the Weighing Room at Hurst Park?

Algernon {whispering): Don’t talk so much. People don’t like it. This is a serious occasion. This is Art, not Amusement. Can’t you see how intent everybody is?

Charles:: Rather. Like a funeral. I say. Do look at that girl with the old chap with a pencil and notebook. Doesn’t she look bored? Poor kid.