Rachel: Is there anything wrong today?
Mrs. Loving: I’m just tired, chickabiddy, that’s all.
Rachel (Moves over to the table. Mechanically takes off her hat and coat and carries them out into the entryway of the flat. She returns and goes to the looking glass over the fireplace and tucks in the tendrils of her hair in rather a preoccupied manner. The electric doorbell rings. She returns to the speaking tube in the vestibule. Her voice is heard answering): Yes!—Yes!—No, I’m not Mrs. Loving. She’s here, yes!—What? Oh! come right up! (Appearing in the doorway). Ma dear, it’s some man, who is coming for Mrs. Strong’s waist.
Mrs. Loving (Pausing and looking at Rachel): It is probably her son. She said she would send for it this afternoon. (Rachel disappears. A door is heard opening and closing. There is the sound of a man’s voice. Rachel ushers in Mr. John Strong.)
Strong (Bowing pleasantly to Mrs. Loving): Mrs. Loving? (Mrs. Loving bows, puts down her sewing, rises and goes toward Strong). My name is Strong. My mother asked me to come by and get her waist this afternoon. She hoped it would be finished.
Mrs. Loving: Yes, Mr. Strong, it is all ready. If you’ll sit down a minute, I’ll wrap it up for you. (She goes into hallway leading to other rooms in flat).
Rachel (Manifestly ill at ease at being left alone with a stranger; attempting, however, to be the polite hostess): Do sit down, Mr. Strong. (They both sit).
Rachel (Nervously after a pause): It’s a very pleasant day, isn’t it, Mr. Strong?
Strong: Yes, very. (He leans back composedly, his hat on his knee, the faintest expression of amusement in his eyes).
Rachel (After a pause): It’s quite a climb up to our flat, don’t you think?