Grice. I don't think that's much of a discovery.
Aunt Ida. Nor I.
Madge. Yes, but Aunt Ida, you never really knew Celia before.
Aunt Ida. Before what?
Madge. (Enthusiastically) Before she was engaged. Before she let herself go, before she showed us all the Celiaishness of Celia.
Grice. There isn't a finer girl in England. (Puts teacup on mantel.) No, nor a finer dinner than the one I'm giving her to-night.
(Enter Tarver L.I, elaborately dressed and spattered with mud. He leans against jamb of door weakly. Everyone but Aunt Ida starts in surprise at sight of Tarver. Note: Aunt Ida does not participate in this scene, being wholly engrossed in the matter of the Times.)
Phyllis. (Starting up, goes toward Tarver a few steps) Bobby!!!!
Tarver. (Leaning weakly against door) I'm dead to the world.
Evelyn. What has happened?