Olive.
[Turning.] No, no! Mrs. Cloys——
Mrs. Cloys.
[Facing Olive firmly.] Mrs. Allingham, I think, when we look back upon this evening, that you and I will be able to congratulate ourselves upon a considerable exercise of politeness. But there are signs that neither of us is equal to a prolonged strain.
Olive.
I beg your pardon; I will be patient. You need have no misgivings on my account.
Mrs. Cloys.
[Formidably.] Perhaps not; but I am beginning to be acutely conscious of my own weakness. [Looking round.] Fletcher——
Olive.
[Angrily.] Oh, oh!