MRS. TIMBRELL. Anyone can see that Mr. Broome.
BROOME. But—I mean to say—what I’m sayin’ is—
MRS. TIMBRELL. I believe it is the doctor.
BROOME. I’m on’y a poor cabman. You’re too clever for me.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Don’t worry your daughter. Don’t be always asking her to explain things. Your wife sees that.
BROOME. I’m her father. I think there’s something due to me.
MRS. TIMBRELL. That’s where we parents make the mistake.
BROOME. Well, I can see a bit and I think the young man has acted fair.
[LEONARD enters.]
LEONARD. Your wife’s going, Mr. Broome.