[Smith leans back in his chair and stares in front of him.
Smith (to himself). Arabella!
Enter Boy, followed by a stylishly-dressed lady of middle age.
Boy. Mrs Robinson.
[Exit.
[Mrs Robinson stops short in the middle of the room and stares at the Editor; then staggers and drops on to the sofa.
Smith (in wonder). Arabella!
Mrs Robinson. William!
[They fall into each other's arms.
Arabella. I had begun to almost despair. (Smith winces.) "Almost to despair," I mean, darling.