John.
[Looking at her, startled.] By Jove, how dreadfully white you are!
Theophila.
[With a nod and a smile.] The looks have gone with the character—[putting her hands over her face]—both departed finally.
John.
[Coming a little nearer to her.] Er—when you’ve had a little rest you will see everything in a brighter light——
Theophila.
I should have kept my appearance a good many years, being fair and small. [Removing her hands—looking up at him.] You used to tell me I should last pretty till I’m forty-five. Do you remember? [His jaw drops a little, and he stares at her without replying.] Do you remember?
John.
[Moving away.] Oh—er—yes——