MARY. That’s my father’s voice.
LEONARD. Let’s see—what does he do?
MARY. He’s a cabman.
LEONARD. Heavens! Are there such things still! A growler or what?
[The door opens and MRS. GREAVES ushers in MR. AND MRS. BROOME. He is dingily arrayed but confronts misfortunes with a slightly defiant air. She is a rather sharp, quiet woman, shabbily dressed. She does not display much tenderness to her daughter but regards her with some solicitude. MRS. GREAVES watches the greetings curiously before retiring.]
MARY. [After kisses from father and mother.] This is my husband.
[There is some rather stiff hand shaking.]
MARY. Sit down, mother.
LEONARD. Sit down, Mr. Broome.