[He sinks on to the settee with a vacant stare, his arms hanging helplessly.
Darbey.
[To Sheba.] There—now his career is a burden to him!
Sheba.
Oh!
Salome.
Would you like a glass of water, Major Tarver?
Tarver.
[Taking Salome’s hand.] Thank you, dear Miss Jedd, with the least suggestion of cayenne pepper in it.
Sheba.