(LATIMER lies down at full length on the sofa and begins to groan; putting a hand first on his stomach, then on his head, then on his elbow. EUSTASIA does not come. He cautiously raises his head; the room is empty.)
LATIMER (disappointedly). Throwing it away! (He hears footsteps, and settles down again.)
(ANNE comes in, hat on, bag in hand. She is just at the door when a groan reaches her. She stops. Another groan comes. She puts down her bag and comes towards the sofa with an “Oh!” of anxiety.)
LATIMER. Oh, my poor—er—head! (He clasps it.)
ANNE (alarmed). What is it? (She kneels by him.)
LATIMER. Oh, my—— (Cheerfully) Hallo, Anne, is it you? (He sits up.)
ANNE (still anxious). Yes, what is it?
LATIMER (bravely). Oh, nothing, nothing. A touch of neuralgia.
ANNE. Oh!... You frightened me.
LATIMER. Did I, Anne? I’m sorry.