And you sat there, drinking in every word; and when the poor creature had cleared herself, and satisfied you, still you made no effort——! [Rising.] Oh!
Olive.
[Seizing his coat.] John, I couldn’t move from that curtain! I was a wretch! Pity me! I couldn’t stir! [John walks away. She rises from the ground and sits.] Oh, get me a carriage of some sort to take me to the station.
John.
[Going towards the bell.] I’ll tell Quaife. [Pausing, looking at her.] I don’t know—I can’t imagine—how you are going to get through your life——
Olive.
Oh, please! I’ve been lectured by Mrs. Fraser, Oh, there are heaps of solitary women in the world; some people envy them. [He sits upon the settee.] Now that—now that—the chances of our coming together again have fallen through, I shall be off out of London at once. Where can one go to at this time of the year?
John.
[Abstractedly.] Eh? Er—it’s a bit early for most places.
Olive.