Green Stockings: A Comedy in Three Acts

by A. E. W. Mason

Raleigh. (Taking Steele back to card room) Well, you can cut in again.

(Steele goes reluctantly back to card room, protesting to Raleigh and looking back over his shoulder at Celia as he goes. Those in card room resume former positions and go on with bridge game.)

Madge. (Coming down to Celia and putting her arms around her) Celia!

(Tarver strolls up to morning room and sits right of table and begins reading again.)

Celia. Yes.

Madge. The Indian Mail goes out to-night-via Brindisi and Port Said.

Celia. Well?

Madge. Port Said. That's where letters to Somaliland will be transferred.

(Celia is startled.)

Phyllis. Oh, of course you must write to him. (Jumps up, runs up to writing table R.C., brings blotter from table, containing sheets of paper, envelopes, pens and ink, and puts them on magazine table; stands above and to the R. of Celia.)