Mrs. Cloys.
Thank God! [Rising.] Muriel——
[Mrs. Emptage rises; Mrs. Cloys kisses her on both cheeks, then turns away.
Mrs. Emptage.
You will see Theo and her husband in a few minutes. They are staying with me just now. “Weak, giddy mother,” am I, Harriet? My child flies to me in her trouble, nevertheless.
Mrs. Cloys.
[Wiping her eyes.] The dear bishop will be so rejoiced. Not a newspaper has been taken at the Palace this week. [Resuming her seat.] It has hit us hard. How did it all come about?
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
In this way. I——
Mrs. Emptage.