Cedric. I quite see the argument.
Flora. (With a nod of the head towards the door, L.) You've told her the reason?
Cedric. She'd half guessed it. I made it seem as plausible as I could, in my taciturn way. But you know it would need a course of lectures to explain it properly.
Flora. I suppose I ought to depart hence. Where is your mother now?
Cedric. She's briefly stating the facts to the head of the family.
Flora. Cedric, don't you feel as if I'd lifted an enormous weight off your chest? Candidly!
Cedric. No; but I feel as if we'd been sitting all day in a stuffy railway carriage with a window that wouldn't open, and there'd been a collision that had pitched us clean through it. I've got oxygen, but I'm dashed if I can feel my legs.
Flora. My dear Cedric, if you were seriously injured you couldn't talk like that.
(Enter, L., during the last words, Mrs. Reach Haslam and Mr. Reach Haslam, very solemn.)