[Waving her away.] Faugh!
Olive.
[Her hand to her brow.] You are—very—polite—[She walks slowly and painfully towards the steps, pausing in her walk, and referring to her watch.] John, when the talk between you and Mrs. Fraser has—gone far enough, I will strike ten on the bell of the little clock in here. You understand?
John.
When you are satisfied!
Olive.
[Beginning to ascend the steps, with the aid of the balustrade.] When I am satisfied.
John.
Olive——! [She stops.] It’s not too late now for us to think better of playing this infernally mean trick upon her.
Olive.