(She nods. He lights the cigarette.)
Miss G. It’s so warm in that conservatory. (Pointing to the left.)
Mr M. (With feeling.) So it was in that one. (Pointing to the right. He wipes his brow, she fans herself assiduously.) Ouf!
Miss G. You do look rather—flustered.
Mr M. Well—in fact—so do you.
(They look at one another, trying to remain grave, but presently both give a short embarrassed laugh. Mr M. comes a step nearer, placing his hand on the back of the chair.)
I’ve got it! I know the signs!
(She looks at him inquiringly and with amusement. He nods towards the conservatory on the left.) You’ve been refusing some fellow in there.
Miss G. Have I? (Pointing to the conservatory on the right.) And what have you been doing in there?
Mr M. (After a careful glance over his shoulder.) As you didn’t see the lady, I don’t mind admitting that I’ve been doing the same thing.