CHRISTINE. Mother! What----?
But LADY CHESHIRE waves the question aside, passes her daughter,
and goes out into the corridor. The sound of a motor car is
heard.
JOAN. [Running to the window] They've started--! Chris! What is
it? Dot?
DOT. Bill, and her!
JOAN. But what?
DOT. [Gloomily] Heaven knows! Go away, you're not fit for this.
JOAN. [Aghast] I am fit.
DOT. I think not.
JOAN. Chris?
CHRISTINE. [In a hard voice] Mother ought to have told us.
JOAN. It can't be very awful. Freda's so good.
DOT. Call yourself in love, you milk-and-water-kitten!
CHRISTINE. It's horrible, not knowing anything! I wish Runny hadn't
gone.
JOAN. Shall I fetch John?
DOT. John!
CHRISTINE. Perhaps Harold knows.
JOAN. He went out with Studdenham.
DOT. It's always like this, women kept in blinkers. Rose-leaves and
humbug! That awful old man!
JOAN. Dot!
CHRISTINE. Don't talk of father like that!
DOT. Well, he is! And Bill will be just like him at fifty! Heaven
help Freda, whatever she's done! I'd sooner be a private in a German
regiment than a woman.
JOAN. Dot, you're awful.
DOT. You-mouse-hearted-linnet!
CHRISTINE. Don't talk that nonsense about women!
DOT. You're married and out of it; and Ronny's not one of these
terrific John Bulls. [To JOAN who has opened the door] Looking for
John? No good, my dear; lath and plaster.
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