MRS. BRAMSON: I must go this minute and have a look at my pampas gra.s.s.

And if they've damaged it I'll bring an action.

MRS. TERENCE: Fancy Shepperley bein' in print.

MRS. BRAMSON: Wheel me out, and don't talk so much.

MRS. TERENCE (_manoeuvring her through the front door_): I could talk me 'ead off and not talk as much as some people I could mention.

OLIVIA _is alone. A pause. She spreads her paper on the table and finds_ DAN'S _hat under it. She picks it up and looks at it_; DAN _comes in from the kitchen with a ball of tangled string, a cigarette between his lips. He is about to take the books into the kitchen, when he sees her. He crosses to her_.

DAN: Excuse me ... (_Taking the hat from her, cheerfully_) I think I'll hang it in the hall, same as if I was a visitor ...

_He does so, then takes up the book, sits on the sofa, and begins to unravel the string. A pause_.

You don't mind me stayin' and havin' a bit o' lunch ... in the kitchen, do you?

OLIVIA: It's not for me to say. As I told you before, I'm really a servant here.

DAN (_after a pause_): You're not a very ordinary servant, though, are you?

OLIVIA (_turning over a page_): N-no ...

DAN: Neither am I.

_He unpicks a knot, and begins to hum absentmindedly. The humming gradually resolves itself into faint singing._

(_Singing_) "I'm a pretty little feller ... everybody knows ..."

OLIVIA _looks up; a thought crosses her mind. She turns her head and looks at him.

The Curtain begins to fall slowly.

(Singing, as he intently unravels the string_)

"Don't know what to call me--but I'm mighty lak a rose...."

THE CURTAIN IS DOWN

ACT II

SCENE I

_An afternoon twelve days later. The weather is a little duller._

MRS. BRAMSON _is sitting on the right of the table in her invalid chair, puzzling out a game of patience. She has smartened up her appearance in the interval and is wearing purple, and earrings._ OLIVIA _is sitting opposite her, smoking a cigarette, a pencil and pad on the table in front of her; she is pondering and writing. A portable gramophone on a small table next the desk is playing the H.M.V. dance record of "Dames."

A pause_. MRS. BRAMSON _coughs. She coughs again, and looks at_ OLIVIA, _waving her hand before her, clearing away billows of imaginary smoke_.

OLIVIA: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON (_temper_): Not at all. I like it!

OLIVIA _stubs out her cigarette with a resigned look and goes on making notes_. DAN _enters from the kitchen, keeping time to the music, carrying a bunch of roses, wearing overalls over flannel trousers and a brown golf jacket, and smoking. He goes to the fireplace and clumps the roses into a vase on the mantelpiece, humming the tune.

He crosses to the gramophone, still in rhythm,_ MRS. BRAMSON _keeping time skittishly with her hands. He turns off the gramophone and looks over_ OLIVIA'S _shoulder at what she is writing._

DAN (_singing_): "Their home addresses ... and their caresses ...

linger in my memory of ... those beautiful dames" ... (_His hand to his forehead_) That's me!

OLIVIA _looks at him coldly and continues her notes._

MRS. BRAMSON: It won't come out....

DAN _shrugs his shoulders, stands behind_ MRS. BRAMSON'S _chair, and studies her play._ OLIVIA _follows his example from her side._

OLIVIA (_pointing to two cards_): Look.

MRS. BRAMSON (_infuriated_): I saw that! Leave me alone, and don't interfere.

_A pause._ DAN _makes a quick movement and puts one card on another.

(Pleased and interested, quite unconscious to the difference in her att.i.tude_) Oh, yes, dear, of course....

OLIVIA (_as_ MRS. BRAMSON _makes a move_): No, that's a spade.

MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): No such thing; it's a club. It's got a wiggle on it.

DAN: They both got wiggles on 'em. (_Pointing to another card_) This is a club.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh yes, dear, so it is! OLIVIA (_writing_): The ironmonger says there _were_ two extra gallons of paraffin not paid for.

MRS. BRAMSON: And they _won't_ be paid for either--not if I have to go to law about it.

_A pause. She coughs absently_.

DAN: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON: No, no, dear.

_This has its effect on_ OLIVIA. DAN _sits on the left of the table, where "East Lynne" is open on the table_.

I'm sick of patience.

DAN (_reading laboriously_): "You old-fashioned child--"

MRS. BRAMSON: What?