Mr. R. Haslam. As you were.
Bishop. Just so! Really a terrible blow to them—must have been! And to you, and to you! An appalling shock! How have they borne it?
Mrs. R. Haslam. Well—(turning to Mr. R. Haslam). Father, how should you say they have borne it?
Mr. R. Haslam. Grimly. That is—on the grim side.
Bishop. Ah!
Mrs. R. Haslam. Of course, my Lord, we are taking it for granted that the matter can be put right to-morrow, without fail, and beyond question. I have tried to comfort them with that absolute assurance.
Bishop. My dear lady. Without fail! At any hour! any hour ... up to three o'clock. That is why I have come specially to town—to convince you by my presence of my horror at the—er—crime, my sympathy with its innocent victims, and my utter determination that the ceremony shall be performed again to-morrow morning under my personal supervision and guarantee. I feel that I cannot do too much.
(During the last words enter Cuthbert, back, with salver of letters and press cuttings, followed by parlour-maid with a tray of newspaper packets.)
Mrs. R. Haslam. Will you excuse my husband while he deals with the post?